THE    STAR    OF 
BETHLEHEM 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


EXLIBRIsllf  J||[ 


The  Star  of  Bethlehem 


The  Star  of  Bethlehem 


A  MIRACLE  PLAY  OF  THE  NATIVITY 


RECONSTRUCTED   FROM 

C!)e  Colonelep  and  (Bi^tv  (2^1D  Cnglisi)  Cycles 

(OF  THE  Xlllth,  XlVth,  AND  XVth  CENTURIES) 


And  Supplemented  and  Adapted  to  Modern 

Conditions 

BY 

CHARLES  MILLS  GAYLEY 


As  composed  for  Mr.  Ben  Greet,  and  presented 
by  his  Company 


FOX,   DUFFIELD   AND    COMPANY 


»  *  *  » 


NEW   YORK 


■»  *  > 
J  J  *  ^ 
'  J '  J      >  J  *  J 


»      •••*.»•>     *.    '•>  ''    ' 

'  •  i  •  •    S'  ■•  •     ' 


Copyright,  1904 
By  FOX,  DUFFIELD    AND  COMPANY 


The  liberty  of  public  performance  and  control 
of  the  same  have  been  legally  assigned  by 
the  Composer  to  BEN  GREET,  and  such 
assignment  has  been  recorded  in  the  office  of 
the  Librarian  of  Congress 


Published,  September,  1904 


Printed  in  America 


The  XTnlveralty  Press,  Cambridge,  IT.  S.  A. 


•  •   *        »   4    • 

■^   •        *   *  %  t 


'       1        »       •.       < 


•  »  •     •    • 

•  •  •    •  •  « 


OF  THE  ENGLISH   MIRACLE  PLAYS 

IN  the  miracle  plays  of  our  forefathers 
the  mirth,  the  proverbial  philosophy,  the 
social  aims,  the  aesthetic  and  religious 
ideals  of  the  Middle  Ages  still  live  for  us. 
At  first  these  plays  existed  as  units,  each 
commemorating  some  episode  in  the  life  of 
Christ  or  of  the  saints,  or  some  important 
fragment  of  Old  Testament  history.  But 
gradually  they  coalesced  at  this  place  and 
that  into  a  cycle  (or  sequence  of  anywhere 
from  five  to  fifty  dramatic  compositions) 
covering  in  one  vast  survey  the  whole  of 
sacred  history  and  prophecy,  as  told  in  scrip- 
ture and  in  ecclesiastical  legend,  from  the 
Fall  of  the  Angels  to  the  Day  of  Judgment. 
The  cycle  of  York  stands  to  one  of  its 
component  pageants  as  the  minster  itself  to 
chapel,  cloister,  nave  or  crypt.  And  the 
same  simple,  patient,  practical  mystics  built 
both   cycle    and    cathedral.      If    we   would 

[v] 


LIBRARY 


know  how  our  fathers  lived  and  dreamed 
we  should  study  their  temples  of  dramatic 
verse  as  well  as  their  aspirations  in  stone. 

In  England  the  germs  of  these  cycles  are 
found,  even  before  the  Norman  Conquest, 
in  dramatic  tropes  or  paraphrases  of  the 
sacred  narrative,  presented  by  the  clergy  in 
connection  with  the  divine  service.  Later 
these  efforts  at  histrionic,  and  therefore  more 
vivid,  presentation  of  scriptural  lessons  grad- 
ually lapsed  from  the  Latin  into  the  English 
tongue,  and  from  the  church  to  the  church- 
yard or  the  village  green,  and  from  the 
clerical  to  the  lay  actor  —  and  they  found  in 
the  process  ever  warmer  welcome  with  the 
people  of  the  town.  During  the  thirteenth, 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  the  trades- 
unions  of  those  days,  —  the  crafts  or  gilds 
of  centres  like  Chester,  York,  Coventry, 
Wakefield,  Dublin,  Digby,  Beverley  and 
half  a  hundred  more,  —  adopted  the  cycles 
and  presented  them,  each  in  its  own  way, 
but  in  their  totality  and  in  chronological 
sequence,  in  connection  with  the  great  fes- 
tivals of  the  Christian  year.  For  the  day 
appointed,  say  that  of  Corpus  Christi,  each 
gild  would  have  its  own  portion  of  the  dra- 
matic  mystery   to    prepare.      The   gild   not 

[vi] 


only  regarded  its  particular  play  as  a  prop- 
erty or  adjunct  of  the  order,  but  delighted 
to  improvise  new  scenes  or  passages  and 
(in  earlier  days,  at  any  rate)  to  stand  the 
expense  of  the  performance.  One  of  the 
York  registers  shows  that  the  first  pageant 
of  the  Cycle  of  Corpus  Christi  was  acted 
by  the  Tanners.  It  was  "  God  the  Father 
making  the  heavens,  angels  and  archangels, 
Lucifer  and  the  angels  who  fell  with  him  into 
hell."  The  second  pageant,  "  the  creation  of 
the  world,"  was  acted  by  the  Plasterers ;  the 
third,  "  the  making  of  Adam  and  Eve  out 
of  clay  of  the  earth,"  by  the  Cardmakers ; 
the  fourth,  "  God  forbidding  Adam  and  Eve 
to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,"  by  the  Fullers ; 
and  so  on  —  fifty-one  plays,  closing  with 
Doomsday,  which  was  presented  by  the 
craft  of  Mercers.  A  certain  humorous  affin- 
ity of  gild  and  play  occasionally  leaps  to  the 
eye,  as  when  the  Shipwrights  devote  them- 
selves to  the  Construction  of  the  Ark,  the 
Fishmongers  to  the  Flood,  the  Chandlers  to 
the  Shepherds  and  the  Star,  the  Gold- 
crafts  to  the  Three  Kings,  the  Nailors  and 
Sawyers  to  the  Massacre  of  the  Inno- 
cents, and  the  Barbers  to  the  Baptism  of 
Jesus.     Each   gild   was   wont  to   act  on  a 

[vii] 


wheeled  platform  or  "  pageant  "  scaffold ; 
and  the  waggons  bearing  scenery  and  players 
made  the  circuit  of  the  town,  stopping  the 
successive  repetition  of  the  performance  at 
duly  appointed  stations,  where  spectators  in 
huge  concourse  stood  or  sat  to  be  edified 
from  dewy  morn  till  eve.  The  celebration 
of  the  Craft  Plays  was  a  civic  event:  in 
their  heyday  the  supreme  social,  aesthetic  and 
theatrical  amusement  of  our  ancestors.  And 
none  the  less  so  because  they  were  origin- 
ally devotional  in  character  and  intention. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that 
after  the  industrial  crafts  had  taken  them  up, 
these  miracles  ceased  to  be  cultivated  by 
the  clerical  and  semi-clerical  orders,  or  to  be 
acted  in  ecclesiastical  precincts.  The  gild 
of  which  we  first  are  informed  that  its  func- 
tions were  to  cultivate  processional  and 
artistic  as  well  as  devotional  and  philan- 
thropic ends  was  semi-clerical  rather  than 
secular.  It  is  that  of  the  Parish  Clerks  of 
London,  incorporated  by  Henry  III.  about 
1240.  Of  these  clerks  Hone,  in  his  Ancient 
Mysteries,  says  that  they  were  under  the 
patronage  of  St.  Nicholas,  and  that  it  was  an 
essential  part  of  their  profession,  not  only  to 
sing,  but  to  read,  an  accomplishment  almost 

[  viii  ] 


solely  confined  to  the  clergy,  so  that,  on 
the  whole,  they  seem  to  come  under  the 
denomination  of  a  semi-religious  frater- 
nity. "  It  was  anciently  customary,"  Hone 
tells  us,  "  for  men  and  women  of  the  first 
quality,  ecclesiastics  and  others  who  were 
lovers  of  church  music,  to  be  admitted  into 
this  corporation,  and  they  gave  large  gratui- 
ties for  the  support  and  education  of  many 
persons  in  the  practice  of  that  science. 
Their  public  feasts  were  frequent,  and  cele- 
brated with  song  and  music."  According 
to  Warton,  their  profession,  employment 
and  character  naturally  dictated  to  this  spir- 
itual brotherhood  the  representation  of  plays, 
especially  those  of  the  spiritual  kind.  We 
do  not  know  how  early  this  semi-religious 
gild  took  to  acting,  but  it  is  certain  that  in 
139 1  they  had  been  playing  cyclic  miracles 
at  Skinner's  W^ell  (Clerkenwell)  for  many 
years,  since  they  enjoyed,  at  that  time  and 
place,  the  presence  of  the  king,  queen  and 
nobles  of  the  realm  during  a  performance 
which  was  of  great  eclat  and  lasted  for 
three  days.  In  1409,  the  Clerkenwell  plays 
were  still  so  popular  that  "  most  part  of  the 
nobility  and  gentry  of  England"  attended 
during  a  dramatic  cycle  which  lasted  eight 

[ix] 


days.  It  is  noteworthy  that  Stow,  the  histo- 
rian, calls  these  interludes  at  Skinner's  Well 
of  1391  an  "example  of  later  time,"  inform- 
ing us  that  "  of  old  time  "  the  Parish  Clerks 
of  London  were  accustomed  yearly  to  as- 
semble at  Clerks'  Well,  near  by,  "  and  to 
play  some  large  history  of  Holy  Scripture." 
Since  Clerkenwell  is  mentioned  by  Fitz- 
stephen  in  his  description  of  London  as  a 
place  frequented  by  scholars  and  youth,  I 
think  it  practically  certain  that  the  sacred 
plays  of  which  he  elsewhere  speaks  as  acted 
in  London,  between  1170  and  1182,  were 
played  then  by  similar  Parish  Clerks  and 
at  this  same  place. 

W^hen,  after  the  reinstitution  of  the  festival 
of  Corpus  Christi  in  13 11,  the  miracle  plays 
began  to  be  a  function  of  the  gilds,  their 
secularisation,  even  though  the  clerks  still 
participated  in  the  acting,  was  but  a  ques- 
tion of  time;  and  the  injection  of  crude 
comedy  was  a  natural  response  to  the  civic 
demand.  Indeed  if  we  consider  Comedy  in 
its  higher  meaning  as  the  play  of  the  indi- 
vidual achieving  his  ends,  not  by  revolt  but 
by  adjustment  to  circumstance  and  conven- 
tion, the  miracle  play  was  in  its  essence  a 
preparation  for  comedy  rather  than  tragedy. 

[X] 


For  the  theme  of  these  dramas  is,  in  a  word, 
Christian :  the  career  of  the  individual  as  an 
integral  part  of  the  social  organism,  of  the 
religious  whole.  So  also,  their  aim :  the 
welfare  of  the  social  individual.  They  do 
not  exist  for  the  purpose  of  portraying  im- 
moderate self-assertion  and  the  vengeance 
that  rides  after,  but  the  beauty  of  holiness 
or  the  comfort  of  contrition.  Herod,  Judas 
and  Antichrist  are  foils,  not  heroes.  The 
hero  of  the  miracle  seals  his  salvation  by 
accepting  the  spiritual  ideal  of  the  com- 
munity. These  plays  contribute  in  a  posi- 
tive manner  to  the  maintenance  of  the  social 
organism.  The  tragedies  of  life  and  litera- 
ture, on  the  other  hand,  proceed  from  secular 
histories,  histories  of  personages  liable  to 
disaster  because  of  excessive  peculiarity, — 
of  person  or  position.  Tragedy  is  the  drama 
of  Cain,  of  the  individual  in  opposition  to 
the  social,  political,  divine ;  its  occasion  is 
an  upheaval  of  the  social  organism.  The 
dramatic  tone  of  the  miracle  cycle  is,  there- 
fore, determined  by  the  conservative  char- 
acter of  Christianity  in  general ;  the  nature 
of  the  several  plays  is,  however,  modified  by 
the  relation  of  each  to  one  or  other  of  the 
supreme   crises    in    the    biblical    history   of 

[xi] 


God's  ways  toward  man.  The  plays  lead- 
ing up  to,  and  revolving  about,  the  Nativity 
are  of  happy  ending,  and  were  doubtless 
regarded,  by  authors  and  spectators,  as  we 
regard  comedy.  The  murder  of  Abel,  at  first 
sombre,  gradually  passes  into  the  comedy  of 
the  grotesque.  The  massacre  of  the  inno- 
cents emphasises  not  the  weeping  of  a 
Rachel,  but  the  joyous  escape  of  the  Virgin 
and  the  Child.  In  all  such  stories  the  horri- 
ble is  kept  in  the  background  or  used  by  way 
of  suspense  before  the  happy  outcome,  or 
frequently  as  material  for  mirth.  Upon  the 
sweet  and  joyous  character  of  the  pageants 
of  Joseph  and  Mary  and  the  Child  it  is 
unnecessary  to  dwell.  Those  incorporated 
in  the  revival  of  the  ancient  drama  presented 
in  this  volume  witness  to  the  quality  of  the 
rest.  They  are  of  the  very  essence  of 
comedy.  Indeed  it  must  be  said  that  in  the 
old  cycles  the  plays  surrounding  the  Cruci- 
fixion are  not  tragedy ;  they  are  specimens 
of  the  serious  drama,  of  tragedy  averted. 
The  drama  of  the  cross  is  a  triumph.  In  no 
cycle  does  the  consutnmatum  est  close 
the  pageant  of  the  Crucifixion ;  the  actors 
announce,  and  the  spectators  believe,  that 
this  is  "Goddis  Sone,"  whom  within  three 

[xii] 


days  they  shall  again  behold,  though  he 
has  been  "  nayled  on  a  tree  unworthilye  to 
die." 

But  though  the  dramatic  edifice  con- 
structed by  our  mediaeval  forbears  is  Com- 
edy, it  is  also  divine.  And  not  for  a  moment 
did  these  builders  lose  their  reverence  for  the 
House  Spiritual  that  was  sacred,  nor  once 
forget  that  the  stones  which  they  ignorantly 
and  often  mirthfully  swung  into  strange  jux- 
taposition were  themselves  hewn  by  Other 
Hands.  The  comic  scenes  of  the  English 
Miracle  should,  therefore,  be  regarded  not  as 
interruptions  to  the  sacred  drama,  nor  as 
independent  episodes,  but  as  counterpoint 
or  dramatic  relief.  So,  in  the  Second  Shep- 
herds* Play,  which  affords  the  comic  strand 
of  the  present  rehabilitation  of  the  miracles, 
one  cannot  but  remark  the  propriety  of  the 
charm,  as  well  as  the  dramatic  effect,  with 
which  the  foreground  of  the  sheep-stealing 
dissolves  into  the  radiant  picture  of  the  Na- 
tivity. The  pastoral  atmosphere  is  already 
shot  with  a  prophetic  gleam ;  the  fulfilment 
is,  therefore,  no  shock  or  contrast,  but  a 
transfiguration  —  an  epiphany.  It  is,  more- 
over, to  be  remembered  that  such  characters 
and  episodes   as   are  comically  treated  are 

[  xiii  ] 


of  secular  derivation,  or,  if  scriptural,  of  no 
sacred  significance.  Thus  the  comic  and  the 
realistic  in  the  poet  were  set  free ;  and  it  is 
just  when  he  is  embroidering  the  material  of 
mystery  with  the  stammel-red  or  russet  of 
his  homespun  that  he  is  of  most  interest  to 
us.  As  soon  as  the  plays  have  passed  into 
the  hands  of  the  gilds,  the  playwright  puts 
himself  most  readily  into  sympathy  with  the 
literary  consciousness  as  well  as  the  untutored 
aesthetic  taste  of  his  public  when  he  colours 
the  spectacle,  old  or  new,  with  what  is  pre- 
eminently popular  and  distinctively  national. 
In  the  minster  and  out  of  it,  all  through  the 
Christian  year,  the  townsfolk  of  York  or 
Chester  had  as  much  of  ritual,  of  scriptural 
narrative  and  tragic  mystery  as  they  desired, 
and  probably  more.  When  the  pageants 
were  acted,  they  listened  with  simple  cre- 
dulity, no  doubt,  to  the  sacred  history,  and 
with  a  reverence  that  our  age  of  illumina- 
tion can  neither  emulate  nor  understand ; 
but  we  may  be  sure  that  they  awaited  with 
keenest  expectation  those  invented  episodes 
where  tradition  conformed  itself  to  familiar 
life,  —  the  impromptu  sallies,  the  cloth-yard 
shafts  of  civic  and  domestic  satire  sped  by 
well-known  wags  of  town  or  gild.     Of  the 

[xiv] 


appropriateness  of  these  insertions  the  spec- 
tators made  no  question,  and  the  dramatists 
themselves  do  not  seem  to  have  thought  it 
necessary  to  apologise  for  their  aesthetic 
creed  or  practice. 

I  wish  to  call  especial  attention  to  the 
author  of  the  play  mentioned  above  as 
forming  the  basis  of  the  present  dramatic 
composition.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that  to 
the  present  day  nobody  has  called  him  the 
Father  of  English  Comedy;  and  still,  that  he 
undoubtedly  is.  In  addition  to  the  Secunda 
Pastor^m  (or  Second  Shepherds'  Play) 
he  wrote  other  pageants  of  the  so-called 
Towneley  Cycle  amounting  to  about  one- 
quarter  of  the  whole ;  probably  six  plays, 
and  parts  of  six  or  eight  more  —  some  four 
thousand  lines.  The  realistic  and  humor- 
ous qualities  of  his  style  were  unique  and 
singularly  suitable  to  the  development  of  a 
national  comedy.  Both  for  ease  of  versi- 
fication and  for  sense  of  dramatic  effect,  he 
is  not  unworthy  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same 
breath  with  his  more  distinguished  contem- 
porary Chaucer.  To  the  dramatic  composi- 
tion of  his  day  he,  indeed,  holds  the  same 
relation  as  that  sustained  by  Chaucer  toward 
the  metrical  romance.     He  should  be  read 

[XV] 


in  every  college  and  known  by  every  gentle- 
man to-day.  The  best  of  his  plays  are 
of  course  the  Noe  and  the  Secunda  Pas- 
torum  ;  the  latter  a  product  of  dramatic 
genius.  It  stands  out  English  and  alone, 
with  its  homely  wisdom  and  indigenous 
figures,  —  Mak  and  Gyll  and  the  shepherds, 
—  its  comic  business,  its  glow,  its  sometimes 
subtle  irony,  its  ludicrous  colloquies,  its  draft 
of  rural  manners  and  morals,  its  naive  and 
wholesome  reverence.  With  these  qualities 
it  occupies  a  place  apart  from  other  plays 
of  cycles,  foreign  or  native,  and  in  its 
dramatic  anticipations,  postponements  and 
surprises,  is  our  earliest  masterpiece  of  comic 
drama.  A  similar  dramatic  excellence  char- 
acterises all  the  plays  of  this  anonymous 
Playwright  of  Wakefield  (for  in  Wakefield 
the  cycle  called  by  the  name  of  the  Towne- 
ley  family  was  acted)  as  well  as  the  inser- 
tions made  by  him  in  other  plays.  But  he 
is  no  more  remarkable  for  his  dramatic 
power  than  for  his  sensitive  observation,  his 
realistic  vigour  and  his  satire.  These  are 
manifest  in  his  Buffeting  and  Scourging 
of  Christ,  and  in  his  contribution  to  the  Last 
Judgment.  The  poet  behind  the  grimness 
and  the  satire  is  ever  the  same,   sound   in 

[  xvi  ] 


his  domestic,  social,  political  philosophy, 
constant  in  his  sympathy  with  the  poor,  and 
in  his  godly  fear.  If  by  modernising  his 
verse  and  combining  a  play  of  his  with 
others  in  such  manner  as  to  make  a  drama 
suitable  to  the  stage  of  to-day  I  may  have 
contributed  anything  to  the  resuscitation  of 
his  work  and  name,  I  shall  feel  that  my 
labour  is  well  paid.  His  works  are  pub- 
lished in  England,  in  Pollard's  edition  of 
the  Towneley  Plays  (Early  English  Text 
Society) ;  and  a  further  discussion  of  them 
may  be  found  in  the  present  writer's  His- 
torical Vieiv  of  Early  English  Comedy 
(Representative  English  Comedies),  upon 
which   this  account   is  based. 

As  to  The  Star  of  Bethlehem,  it  attempts 
to  reproduce  the  material,  conditions  and  at- 
mosphere of  the  miracles  as  far  as  may  be 
appropriate  to  modern  conditions.  It  is  put 
together  from  a  number  of  plays  with  such 
callidce  juncturce  of  my  own  invention  as 
were  unavoidable.  The  "  putting  together  " 
itself  springs  from  the  situation.  No  one  of 
the  old  pageants  is  at  the  same  time  of  suf- 
ficient proportions  and  sufficient  unity  to 
hold  a  modern  audience  for  an  afternoon  or 
evening.     W^hen  Mr.  Greet  asked  me  to  pre- 

[  xvii  ] 


pare   for  him  something   from  the   miracle 
plays,  I  found  it  necessary  to  amalgamate 
several  plays  of  common  focus.     Hence,  in 
The  Star,  the   Towneley   Offering  of  the 
Magi    plays   almost    as    important    a    part 
as  the  Secunda  Pastorum.     I  have  inter- 
twined these  two,  and,  for  dramatic  effect,  I 
have  taken  the  liberty  of  conveying  Kings  and 
Shepherds  to  the  manger  at  the  same  time. 
With    these    strands    I    have   woven    pas- 
sages  from   the  Towneley   Annunciation 
and  Lazarus,  from  the  York  Angels  and 
Shepherds  and  the  Coming  of  the  Three 
Kings,   from   the   Coventry   Corpus  Christi 
Salutation    and    Conception,    Birth    of 
Christ,  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,  and 
Adoration  of  the  Magi,  from  the  Chester 
Processus  Prophetarum  and  Antichrist, 
and    the    Coventry    Gild    Pageant    of    the 
Shearmen  and  Taylors.     I  have  also  made 
use  of  the  legend  of  the   Three  Kings  of 
Cologne,  and  of  other  sources  which  I  have 
not  taken  pains  to  record.     In  their  original 
form,  the   songs  are   of  the   twelfth  to   the 
fifteenth  centuries  and   are   such   as   might 
well    have    been    inserted    by    improvising 
craft-players.     Like  the  text  of  the  dramatic 
materials  of  The  Star,  they  have  been  al- 

[  xviii  ] 


tered  only  so  far  as  was  necessary  to  make 
them  intelligible  to  the  ordinary  auditor. 
All  through  I  have  changed  words,  lines 
and  sequence ;  but  only  when  I  could  not 
help  it.  The  materials  of  course  I  have 
arranged  with  a  free  hand,  and  occasion- 
ally I  have  had  the  temerity  to  put  my  own 
words  into  the  mouths  of  men  and  angels. 
But  I  hope  that  the  spirit  of  the  whole  is 
mediaeval,  and  the  figures  and  the  frame- 
work and  the  atmosphere.  The  great  public 
cannot  reach  the  originals;  may  it  not, 
however,  enjoy  even  in  a  reproduction  the 
dramatic  art  which  delighted  our  forefathers 
for  full  five  hundred  years,  and  learn  some- 
thing of  the  simplicity  and  sublimity  of 
their  ancient  view  of  the  Mystery  that  still 
is  modern  ? 

I  cannot  close  without  expressing  my 
gratitude  to  Mr.  Ben  Greet  for  many  a 
suggestion  in  the  preparation  of  this  play. 
I  should  certainly  not  have  meddled  with 
so  sacred  a  subject  had  I  not  been  confident 
that  the  presentation  of  the  miracle  would 
be  wisely  entrusted  to  his  exquisite  taste  and 
masterly  technique. 

CHARLES   MILLS   GAYLEY. 

[xix] 


Bramatts  ^ersonae 


The  Angel  (ffia^Jtiel 

CoU»  Me  First  Shepherd 
CSrgtl,  the  Second  Shepherd 
10ato,  the  Third  Shepherd 
SWafe,  a  Sheep-Thief 

WTuncittS,  or  Messenger  of 
Herod 

Counsellors  of  Herod 
Retinue  of  the  Magi 


First   Magus,    JJasprt, 

King  of  Tars 
Second  Magas,  ^tltf^iot 

King  of  Araby 

Third  Magus,  ISa(t))afar, 

King  of  Saba 

The  Uitfiiu  ptarg 

^nciUa,  or  Maidser-vant  of 
the  Virgin 

Evil  Spirits 
Chorus  of  Angels 


PROCESSUS    I.      JTtje   <Sf)epi)rrtJS»      The    Fields 
near   Bethlehem,    and   a   Peasant's    Hut 

PROCESSUS    II.      JTtje   |Wafli»      Herod's    Palace 
and   the    Neighbourhood 

PROCESSES   III.    ptafe  antr  (SfffU.     a  Peasant's 
Hut  near  Bethlehem 

PROCESSUS    IV.      rfje    Stat.      The    Fields;    a 
Stable   in   Bethlehem 


THE 

STAR   OF   BETHLEHEM 

processus  primus  — Scena  prima 


The  fields  near  Bethtehem,     Night,     Angels  are  heard 
singing  : 


N 


OWELL,    Nowell,    Nowell  ! 
This    is    the    Salutation   of    the    angel 
Gabriel : 

Tidings  true  there  be  come  new 

From  the  Trinity, 
By  Gabriel  to  Nazareth, 

City  of  Galilee. 

A  clean  maiden  and  pure  Virgin 

Through  her  humility 
Hath  conceived  the  Pers6n 

Second  in  Deity. 

[I] 


Loquitur  ffiafiricL 

Christ  conserve  this  congregation 

From  perils  past,  present,  and  futiire, 
And    the   persons    here    playing,   that   the    pronun- 
ciation 

Of  their  sentence  to  be  said  may  be  sad  and  sure ! 
And  that  no  oblocution  make  this  matter  obscure, 

But  it  may  profit  and  please  each  person  present, 
From  the  beginning  to  the  ending  so  to  endure, 

That  Christ  and  every  creature  with  this  conceit 
be  content. 

The  matter  made  is  of  the  birth  of  a  Child 

That  shall  get  us  more  grace  than  ever  men  had, — 
His  mother  a  Maiden,  nothing  defiled. 

She  is  deputed  to  bear  the  Son,  Almighty  God. 
Lo,  sovereigns,  now  may  you  be  glad, 

For  of  this  Maiden  all  we  may  be  fain ; 
For  Adam  that  now^  lies  in  sorrows  full  sad. 

His  glorious  birth  shall  redeem  him  again. 

Listeneth,  lordings,  both  high  and  low: 

As  it  is  said  in  prophecy  — 
Not  to  Earth's  Lords  alone  shall  He  go 
But  to  the  poor  and  of  low  degree  ; 
1      So  shall  ye  foremost  hear  and  see 
1  These  simple  shepherds  of  this  ground, 

To  whom  glad  tidings  presently 
lOf  God's  great  blessing  shall  abound. 

Therefore   of    peace   I    pray  you  all   that  be   here 
present. 
And  take  heed  to  our  talking  what  we  shall  say, 

V 


For    I    am    Gabriel,   the    messenger    of   God    omni- 
potent, 
Who  governs  you  in  goodness,  as  he  best  may. 
In  heaven  may  ye  all  him  see  ! 
Now  God  that  is  heaven  king,  \ 

Send  us  all  his  dear  blessing,  • 

And  to  his  tower  may  he  us  bring. —  I 

Amen,  for  charity  !  ( 

1 
A  splendour  in  the  sky.     Three  Shepherds  enter.     Sheep- 
bells  in    the  distance.     A  strain  of  the   Gloria   in 
Excelsis, 

(SfalineL   Joy  to  God  that  sits  in  Heaven, 
And  peace  to  man  on  earth^s  ground  ! 

First   Shepherd,   CH^oU.     (^Noi  understanding^  but  be- 
holding the  -vision  of  splendour,)     Whe  !  hudde  !  ^ 

Second  Shepherd,  ^j9i)*    Whe!  howe?^ 

Coll*    Hearken  to  me ! 

0rSl).    W^he!  man,  thou  art  mad  all  out  of  might. 

Coll.    Whe!  golly!     {He  gazes  upward  and  beats 

his  hands  for  the  cold,) 

Third  Shepherd,    lI9aU)»  their  servant.     What  care 
is  come  to  thee  ? 

ColL    Step  forth  and  stand  by  me  right, 
And  tell  me  then 
If  thou  saw  ever  such  a  sight !     {^Pointing  to  the  'vision, 

HatD.    I  ?  nay,  certes,  nor  never  no  man,. 

(ilSrfilJ.  {Who  has  not  yet  seen  anything,  but  beats  his 

hands  for  the  cold  and  stares  in  the  'wrong  direction,) 
Say,  fellows,  what !     Find  ye  any  feast  ? 
It  falls  to  me  to  have  part,  pardd.'  | 


1  Whew !   how  I  2  What  now  ?  3  par  Dieu  ! 

[3] 


\ 


I 


(KoU,   Whe  !  hudde !  behold  into  the  east ! 
A  sudden  sight  then  shall  thou  see 

Upon  the  sky ! 
iffigtl*    {Still  at  a  loss.)     Whe  !  tell  me  men,  among 
us  three, 
What  garsi  you  stare  thus  suddenly? 
IBata}.   As  long  as  we  have  herdsmen  been, 
And  kept  this  cattle  in  this  clough,^ 
So  shining  sight  was  never  none  seen. 

ColU     W^he  !     no    golly !      now     comes     it     new 
enough. 

As   we   maun  ^   find :     {Beating    his 

hands f  and  bloiving  upon  his  fingers*) 
It  means  some  marvel  us  among, 

Full  sure  I  am  in  mind. 
Hab).   Such  sight  was  never  seen 
Before  in  our  Jewry  ; 
Some  marvels  will  it  mean 

That  maun  be  here  on  high. 

The  angels  sing  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis* 
|9atD.     Hark !    they   sing   above    in    the    cloud^s 
here : 
Heard  I  never  a  choir  so  clear  ! 
Now,  gentle  brothers,  draw  we  near 
And  hark  their  harmonic. 

They  move  in  the  direction  lohence  the  heavenly  strains 

proceeded, 
(UtoU.    Brother,   mirth   and   solace    will    come    us 
among 
Like  Spring  is  the  sound  they  bear  along. 
^gt}*   Yea,  Spring  is  the  burden  of  my  song: 
Now  brothers,  hearkeneth  me. 

I  makes  ==  valley  '  must 

[4] 


He  sings* 

Oh  Lent  is  come  with  Love  to  town  * 
With  blossoms  and  with  birdds  rune  * 

That  all  this  blissd  bringeth, 
And  day6s-ey6s  in  the  dales, 
Notds  sweet  of  nightingales  : 

Each  fowl  his  song  he  singeth. 

The  throstle  *  chideth  them  for  aye  : 
Their  winter-woe  is  fled  away 

When  erst  the  woodruff  *  springeth ; 
These  fowlds  singeth  wonder  deal 
And  whistleth  of  their  winter-weal, 

That  all  the  woodd  ringeth. 

The  rose  arrayeth  her  in  red, 

The  leavds,  to  the  springtime  spread, 

They  waxen  all  with  willd  ; 
The  moon  outshineth  blithe  of  blee. 
The  lily  is  lovesome  to  see, 

The  fennel  and  the  fille.^ 


) 


As  Gyb  concludes  the  song^  he  moves  off  ivttfi  Da<zu  to 
grve  his  sheep  a  turn* 
(H^Oll.    Lord  what  these  weathers  are  cold !     And 
I  am  ill  happed  ; 
I  am  near-hand  ®  dold  ^  so  long  have  I  nappdd  ; 
My  legs  they  fold,  my  fingers  are  chappdd. 
It  is  not  as  I  wold  for  I  am  all  lappdd 

In  sorrow^, 
In  storms  and  tempest. 


to  town  or  in  tune 

3  thrush 

5  wild  thyme 

whispered  song 

*  wood-rowel,  yellow  asphodel 
'  dulled,  numbed 

0  almost 

[5] 


Now  in  the  east,  now  in  the  west. 
Woe  is  him  never  has  rest 

Mid-day  nor  morrow ! 
But  we  sely^  shepherds  that  walks  on  the  moor, 
In  faith  we  are  near-hands  out  of  the  door  ; 
No  wonder,  as  it  stands,  if  we  be  poor, 
For  the  tilth  ^  of  our  lands  lies  fallow  ^  as  the  floor, 

As  ye  ken. 
We  are  so  distressed, 
Overtaxed  and  oppressed  : 
We  are  tamed  to  the  hest 

Of  these  gentlery  men. 

Thus  they  be-reave  us  of  rest,  may  Our  Lady  them 

harry  ! 
These  men  that  are  lord-fest*  they  cause  the  plough 

tarry. 
That  men  say  is  for  the  best,  we  find  it  contrary ; 
Thus  are  husbands  oppressed  in  point  to  miscarry 

In  life. 
Thus  hold  they  us  under. 
Thus  bring  us  in  blunder ; 
It  were  great  w^onder 

If  ever  we  should  thrive. 

For  may  one  get  a  paint  ^  sleeve  or  a  broach  now- 

a-days, 
W^oe  is  him  that  him  grieve  or  once  only  gainsays ! 
None  dare  him  repreave,^  \vhat  mastery  he  mays, 
And  yet  none  may  believe  one  word  that  he  says, 
No  letter. 

'  simple,  happy  3  unseeded,  neglected  s  embroidered 

^  ploughed  soil  ♦  backed  by  lords  •  reprove 

[6] 


He  can  make  purvey^nce,^ 
With  boast  and  bragg^nce, 
And  all  through  maintenance 
Of  men  that  are  greater. 

There  shall  come  a  s^vain  like  a  peacock  for  show, 
He  will  borrow  my  wain,^  my  plough  also  ; 
And  I  am  full  fain  to  grant  ere  he  go  :  — 
Thus  live  we  in  pain,  anger,  and  woe. 

By  night  and  day. 
He  must  have  what  he  langed* 
Tho'  I  should  forgang*  it; 
I  were  better  be  hanged 

Than  once  say  him  nay. 

It  does  me  good,  as  I  walk  thus  by  mine  own, 
Of  this  world  for  to  talk  in  manner  of  moan. 
To  my  sheep  will  I  stalk  and  hearken  anon ; 
And  abide  on  a  log  or  sit  on  a  stone 

Full  soon. 
For  I  trow,  pardd, 
True  men  if  they  be. 
We  get  more  company 

Ere  it  be  noon. 

®2tl»    (Returning  and  unaivare  of  Colt,)  Benste  and 
Dominus !  ^  what  may  this  mean  ? 
Why  fares  this  world  thus  ?     Oft  have  -we  not  seen  ! 
Lord,  these  weathers  are  spitous  and  the  winter  's 

full  keen  ; 
And   the    frosts    are   so    hideous    they  water    mine 
een,  — 
No  lie  ! 

'  He  can  impress  or  distrain  property  ^  wagon  3  longed  for 

♦  forego  5  Pastoral  Latin  for  the  clerical  invocation,  Benediciie  Dominus. 

[7] 


Now  in  dry,  now  in  weet, 
Now  in  snow,  now  in  sleet ; 
"When  my  shoes  freeze  to  my  feet, 
It  is  not  all  easy. 

But  as  far  as  I  ken,  ere  now  as  I  go, 

We  sely  wed-men  dree  mickle  woe  ;  ^ 

We  have  sorrow  then  and  then,  it  falls  oft  so. 

Poor  Capel,  our  hen,  both  to  and  fro 

She  cackles ; 
But  begin  she  to  croak, 
To  groan  or  to  clock, 
Woe  is  him  of  our  cock,  — 

Then  he  walks   in  the  shackles.       [_CoU   tries 
here  and  else<where  to  interrupt. 

These  men  that  are  wed  have  not  all  their  will ; 
When  they  are  sore  bestead,  they  sigh  full  still ; 
God  wot  they  are  led  full  hard  and  full  ill  : 
In  bower  nor  in  bed  they  say  nought  there-till.'^ 

This  tide, 
My  part  have  /  found. 
I  know  my  lessoun : 
"  W^oe  is  him  that  is  bound. 

For  he  must  abide." 

But  now  late  in  our  lives  —  a  marvel  to  me. 
That  I  think  my  heart  rives  such  wonders  to  see  ; 
W^hat  that  destiny  drives,  it  should  so  be  !  — 
Some   men  will    have  two   wives,    and    some   men 
three. 
In  store  ; 
Some  are  woe  that  has  any  ; 

'  AA^e  poor  husbands  suffer  much  woe.  ^  there-to ;   in  reply 

[8] 


But  so  far  as  ken  I, 
Woe  is  him  that  has  many, 
For  he  suffers  sore. 

No\v,  young  men  a-wooing,  for  God  that  you  bought, 
Be    well    ware    of    w^edding  ;     and    think    in    your 

thought,  — 
•'  Had  I  wist  "  Ms  a  thing  that  will  serve  of  nought. 
Mickle  still  mourning  has  wedding  home  brought^ 

And  griefs, 
With  many  a  sharp  shower  ; 
For  thou  may  catch  in  an  hour 
That  shall  serve  thee  full  sour 

As  long  as  thou  lives. 

For,  as  e'er  I  read  epistle  I  've  a  shrew  to  my  fere,' 

As  sharp  as  a  thistle,  as  rough  as  a  brere  * ; 

She   is   browed   like  a  bristle,  w^ith  a  sour-looking 

cheer ; 
But  once  wet  her  whistle,  and  she'll  sing  you  full 

clear 
Her  Paternoster, 
She  's  as  great  as  a  whale ; 
She  has  a  gallon  of  gall  ; 
By  Him  that  died  for  us  all, 

I  would  I  had  run  till  I  'd  lost  her. 

®OlL    (Succeeding  at  last  in  his  attempt  to  interrupt,) 
God  look  over  the  raw  !  ^     Full  deafly  ye  stand. 

^^t.   Yea,  the  devil  in  thy  maw,  so  tarriand ! 
Saw  thou  aught  of  Daw  ■*-»  ^a.c  4" 

®0U.  Yea,  on  a  lea-land® 

I  "  If  I  had  only  known !  "  ^  Much  silent  sorrow  walks  in  with  a  wife ! 

^  running  mate  *  briar  5  God  help  us  I  ^  fallow  field 

[9] 


Heard  I  him  blaw,^  he  comes  here  at  hand, 

Not  far  ;  — 
Stand  still ! 
<Sf2t>.    Why? 

(fH^OlL   For  he  comes,  hope  I. 
^^i]«    He  will  make  us  both  a  lie 
Unless  we  beware. 

They  step  to  one  side,  as  Da<m  enters* 
IBaitD*      Christ's     cross     me     speed  ^    and     Saint 
Nicholas  ! 
Thereof  had  I  need,  it  is  w^orse  than  it  was. 
Whoso  can,  let  him  heed  and  let  the  world   pass  : 
It  is  ever  in  dread  and  brickie  as  glass, 

And  it  slides  by. 
This  world  fared  never  so. 
With  marvels  more  and  mo', 
No^v  in  weal,  now  in  woe. 

But  mostly  awry.     [Perceii}mg  the  shepherds. 

Ah,  sir,  God  you  save,  and  master  mine  ! 
A  drink  fain  would   I  have  and  somewhat  to  dine. 
^Oll*    Christ's   curse,  my  knave,  thou  art   a  lazy 

hind! 
^gt*   What !  the  boy  must  rave  !    Let  him  abide 
for  a  time, 
Till  we  've  made  it. 
Ill  thrift  on  thy  pate  ! 
Though  the  shrew  came  late, 
Yet  is  he  in  state 

To  dine,  if  he  had  it. 

ISatO*   Such  servants  as  I,  that  sweats  and  sv/inks,® 
Eats  our  bread  full  dry,  and  that 's  ill,  methinks ; 

'  blo^v  ^  help  me !  ^  vvorks 

[lo] 


We  're   oft  ^vet  and  -weary  when   our  master-men 

•winks ; 
Yet  come  full  tardily  our  dinners  and  drinks. 

But  sprightly 
Both  our  dame  and  our  sire, 
When  -we  have  run  in  the  mire, 
They  can  snip  off  our  hire, 

And  pay  us  full  lightly. 

But  hear   my  troth,   master  !     For  the   bargain  ye 

make, 
My  work  shall  hereafter  be  like  what  I  take  ; 
I  shall  do  but  little,  sir,  and   ye  maun  ever  lack  ^  ; 
For  never  lay  my  suppdr  yet  heavy  on  my  stomach 

In  the  fields. 
Why  argument  keep  ? 
With  my  staff  I  can  leap, 
And  men  say  "  Bargain  cheap 

Light  bargain  yields." 

(S^OlL    Thou  wert  an  ill  lad  to  ride  a-wooing 
With  a  man  that  had  but  little  for  spending. 
<2S^$tl*    Peace,  boy,  I  bad  ;  no  more  jangling. 
Or  I  shall  make  thee  full  sad,  by  the  heavens'  king. 

With  thy  gauddsM 
Where  are  our  sheep,  boy?    Are  they  lorn^? 

l9aU)*    Sir,  this  same  day  at  morn 
Left  I  them  in  the  corn. 

When  the  bells  rang  laud^s.* 

They  have  pasture  good,  they  cannot  go  w^rong. 
©oil.    That   is  right.     By  the  Rood,  these  nights 
are  long ! 
Ere  v/e  went  yet  I  would,  one  gave  us  a  song. 

1  you  may  go  without  ^  lost 

2  nonsense  *  morning  service  of  praise 


©?gtJ.   So  thought  I  as  I  stood,  to  mirth  us  among. 

BatO.    I  grant. 
^Oll.    Let  me  sing  the  tenory. 
^gft.    And  I  the  treble  so  high. 
Sato.    Then  the  mean  shall  sing  I. 

Let's  see  how  ye  chant. 

They  begin  to  sing  in  unison. 

Summer  is  i-comen  in 

Loudd  sing,  Cuckoo! 
Groweth  seed  and  bloweth  mead 

And  spring'th  the  wood  anew  ; 
Sing,  Cuckoo! 

Here  enter  Mak,  muffled  in  a  cloak  TvHh  ivhich  he  con- 
ceals  his  peasant  attire.     Making  as  if  unaivare  of 
i  the  shepherds^  he  speaks  as  belo^.     The  shepherds 

'  meanTvhile  sing  softly : 

Ewd  bleateth  after  lamb, 
Loweth  after  calf  the  cow  ; 
j  Bullock  starteth,  young  buck  parteth 

'  For  the  green  fern  now. 

Cuckoo,  Cuckoo! 
Well  singest  thou.  Cuckoo, 
Nor  cease  thou  never  now. 

^Hafe.  Now,  Lord  for  thy  names  seven,  that  made 
both  moon  and  starnes 

Well  more  than  I  can  neven^;  thy  Will  me  over- 
turns. 

Till  I  am  all  uneven  ;  that  muddles  my  concerns. 

1  name 

[12] 


Now  would  God  I  were  in  heaven,  for  there  weep 
no  more  bairns  — 
So,  still! 
CIDoU*   Who  is  that  pipes  so  poor? 
i^alt,    {Addressing  the  audience*) 
Would  God  ye  wist  hovs^  I  fare ! 
Lo,  a  man  that  walks  on  the  moor 
And  has  not  all  his  will  ! 

^fitl.     iShoaUng,)     Mak,   where  has  thou   gone  ? 

Tell  us  tiding. 
ISatD*    {Aside,)     Is  he  come?    Then  each  one  take 
heed  to  his  thing.     [He  snatches  the  cloak  from 
Mak, 
^afe.    (Affecting  the  southern  and  fashionable  mode  of 
speech,) 
What !  I  am  a  yeoman,  I  tell  you,  of  the  king ; 
The  self  and  the  same,  sent  from  a  great  lording. 

And  such. 
Fie  on  you  !     Go  ye  hence 
Out  of  my  presence  ! 
I  must  have  reverence, 

Not  your  vile  touch. 

^0U«   W^hy  make  ye   it  so  quaint,*  Mak  ?    Ye  do 

wrong. 
^Jft).    But,  Mak,  hark,  ye  saint !     I  trow  what  ye 

long.'^ 
ilaU)«    I  trow  the  shrew  can  paint,'  the  devil  may 

him  hang ! 
i;«    I  shall  make  complaint  and  make  you  all 

to  thwang  * 

'  Why  act  so  strangely  ?  '  The  wretch  can  glore. 

2  What  you  're  after.  *  I  'U  have  you  all  flogged. 

[13] 


r 


At  a  word, 
And  tell  even  how  ye  doeth. 
\  CtOlU    But,  Mak,  is  that  sooth? 

Now  take  out  that  southern  tooth,^ 

And  cease  thou  to  gird ! 

^^t)»    Mak,  the  devil  in  your  ee  !     A  stroke  would 

I  lend  you. 
lidlD»    Mak,  know  ye  not  me  ?     By  God,  I  could 
mend  you. 
.    JWafe.    {Affecting  io  recognise  them* ) 
God   bless   you  all   three !     Methought   I   had   seen 

you, — 
Ye  are  a  fair  company. 
^OU.  Can  you  now  mean  you  ? 

^^t).    Shrew,  jape  !  ^ 
What  will  men  suppose 
If  thus  late  thou  still  goes? 
For  the  world  makes  ill  noise 
Of  thy  stealing  of  sheep. 

^ai^.    And  I  am  true  as  steel,  all  men  wot ! 
But  a  sickness  I  feel  that  holds  me  full  hot : 
My  belly  fares  not  weel,  it  is  out  of  estate. 
HatD.    "  Seldom   lies  the  de'il  dead  close  by  the 
gate." 
Plafe*    Therefor 
If  I  stand  stone  still 
I  feel  me  sore  and  ill ; 
I  've  not  eaten  a  morsel 

This  month  and  more. 

<!tOU.    How  fares  thy  wife  ?     By  my  hood,*  how 
does  she  go  ? 

'  affected  accent  ^  Rascal,  you  '11  trick  us,  will  you  ?  ^  honour 

[14] 


f^ai^.    Lies  weltering,  by  the  Rood,^  by  the  fire- 
side, lo ! 
And  a  house  full  of  brood.  — She  drinks  well,  too  ; 
111  speed  other  good  that  she  will  do 

But  so! 
Eats  as  fast  as  she  can, 
And  ilk^  year  that  comes  to  man 
She  brings  forth  another  wean, 
And  some  years  two. 

E'en  were  I  more  gracious  and  richer  by  far, 
I  \vere  eaten  out  of  house  and  out  of  harbar,' 
Yet  is  she  a  foul  dowse  *  if  ye  come  near  ; 
There  is  none  that  trows  ^  nor  knows  a  waur,® 

Than  I  thole.'' 
Now  will  ye  see  what  I  proffer  ?  — 
To  givo  all  in  my  coffer 
If  the  morn  I  might  offer 

A  mass-penny  for  her  soul. 

©2tl.    {Ya.<wning,)     I  wot  so  over-wak^d  is  none 
in  this  shire  : 
I  would  sleep  if  I  takdd  less  for  my  hire. 

iSatD»    I  am  ccld  and  nakdd  and  would  fain  have 

a  fire. 
®0U.    I    am   weary,    for-rakdd,*  and    run   in   the 
mire, — 
Wake  thou  !     \_To  Gyh. 
(^1^\i,    Nay,  I  will  lie  down  by, 
For  I  must  sleep  truly. 


1 


I 


*  Cross 

3  harbour 

i  conceives  of 

7  endure 

*  each 

♦  creature 

"  worse 
[15] 

8  walked  to  death 

H^fllD.    {Also preparir^  to  lie  down,)     As  good  a  man's 
son  was  I 
As  any  of  you. 

But,    Mak,    come  hither !    between    shall    thou    lie 
do^vn. 
S^att.    {Graciously,)     Nay,  so   I  might   intervene 
when  you  whisper  or  rowne  ^ 
But  ne'er  dread ! 
{Aloud,  and  crossing  himself,)     From    my  top  to  my 

toe, 
Manus  tuas  commendo, 
Poncio  PilaW 

Christ's  cross  me  speed  ! 

After  this  night-spell,  Mak   lies  doTun,     When  the  shep- 
herds appear  to  sleep,  he  rises. 
Now  were    time    for   a    man    that   lacks    what   he 

wold  * 
To  stalk  privily  then  to  a  sheep-fold 
And  nimbly  to  work  then  and  be  not  too  bold, 
For  he  might  rue  the  bargain,  if  it  were  told, 

At  the  ending. 
Now  were  time  to  fulfil ; 
But  he  needs  good  counsel 
That  fain  would  fare  well, 

And  has  little  for  spending. 

But  about  you  a  circle  as  round  as  a  moon, 
Till    I    have    done    that    I    will,    till    that    it    be 
noon, 

1  talk  of  secrets 

2  While  seeming  by  his  mutilated  Latin  to  commend  his  spirit  to  divine  care, 
he  contrives  to  commend  his  companions  to  the  Enemy 

'  would 

[i6] 


That  ye  lie  stone-still  to  ^  that  I  have  done  !     [He 

draivs  the  circle. 
And    I    shall    say  theretill  ^  of    good  words    more 
than  one 
On  height :    [He  poses  for  an  tncantaiton. 
Over  your  heads  my  hand  I  lift, 
Out  go  your  een,  of  your  sight  be  bereft ;  — 
Bat  yet  I  must  make  better  shift 
An  it  be  right.     [They  snore. 

Lord  !  vi^hat  they  sleep  hard  !  that  may  ye  all  hear. 
I  was  never  a  shepherd,  but  now  will  I  lere  ^  ; 
Though  the  flock  be  scared,  yet  shall  I  nip  near. 
How!    (To    the   sheep,)     Draw    hitherward !     Now 
mends  our  cheer 

From  sorrow.     [Feeling  them. 
A  fat  sheep  I  dare  say ! 
A  good  fleece  dare  I  lay  ! 
I  '11  pay  back  when  I  may  — 

But  this  will  I  borro'iv! 
He  selects  a  <wetherf  carries  it  to  his  cottage^  and  knocks. 


Stena  Secuntia  \ 

Mak's  Cottage 

Plaft,    {Outside,)     How,  Gyll,  art  thou  in?     Get  / 

us  some  light. 
aSf^W*    Who  makes  such  a  din  this  time  of   the 

night  ? 
I  am  set  for  to  spin  ;  I  hope  not  I  might 

1  till  2  to  that  end  '  leam 

a  [17] 


Rise  a  penny  to  win,     Beshrew  them  on  height 

That  so  fares  ! 
A  housewife  that  has  been 
To  be  jostled  thus  between  ! 
No  w^ork  gets  done,  I  ween 

With  such  small  wares. 


IWafe,    (Outside.) 
Good  Avife,  open  the    hatch  !     Sees  thou  not  w^hat 
I  bring? 
^gU,    I  may  let  thee  lift  the  latch.      {Mak  enters,) 

Ah,  come  in,  my  sweeting  ! 
JHafe*    Yea,  thou  seems  not  to  reck  of  my  long 

standing. 
®^gU.    By  the   naked  neck  art   thou    like    for   to 
hang. 
I^afe,    Do  way! 
I  am  w^orthy  my  meat. 
For  in  a  strait  I  can  get 
More  than  they  that  swink  and  sweat 
All  the  long  day. 

Thus   it    fell    to    my  lot,  Gyll,  I    had   such   grace. 
[Disptays  the  Tvether, 
^glL    It  were  a  foul   blot  to  be  hanged  for  the 

case. 
JHa&,    I  have  'scaped,  Jelott,  oft  as  tight  a  place. 
(&'Q\h    "  But  so  long  goes  the  pot  to  the  water," 
men  says, 
"  At  last 
Comes  it  home  broken." 
^afe.    Well  know  I  the  token, 

[i8] 


But  let  it  ne'er  be  spoken,  — 

Now  come  and  help  fast !     IThey  let  the  ivether 
do'wn  between  them, 

I  would  he  were  slain.     I  list  well  eat  ^ : 
This  twelvemonth  was  I  not  so  fain  of  one  sheep- 
meat. 
^gll.    If  they  come  ere  he  's  slain  and  hear  the 

sheep  bleat  — 
fHaife,    Then  might  I  be  ta'en ;  that  were  a  cold 
sweat ! 
Go  spar^ 
The  gate  door. 

(SffilL    Yea,  Mak, 
An  they  come  at  thy  back,  — 
J^ai^*    Then  might  I  catch  from  that  whole  pack, 
The  devil  of  the  waur.=^ 

&'S\\*     A  good  fraud  have  I  spied,  since  thou  canst 
none: 
Here  shall  we  him  hide  till  they  be  gone,  — 
In  my  cradle  abide.    {She  places  the  sheep  in  the  cradfe,) 

Let  me  alone,  ,  '/    >        << 

And  I  shall  lie  beside  in  the  bed,  and  groan.  (oiyt^uly  ^/k;^ 

J«aft.    Well  said;  / 

We  are  now  ready  dight 
With  a  new  babe  this  night. 
iSrglL    Now  well  is  me,  day  bright, 
That  ever  I  was  bred ! 

This  is  a  good  guise  and  a  far  cast ; 

Sure,  a  woman's  advice  aye  helps  at  the  last ! 

I  I  'd  like  to  taste  him  ^  bar  '  the  worst  of  it 

[19] 


I  wot  never  who  spys :  —  ( Thinking  she  hears  some  one 
approach,)  again  go  thou  fast! 
5[^ai^.    An  I  come  not  ere  they  rise,  there  '11  blaw  a 
cold  blast! 
I  will  go  sleep. 
He  passes  from  the  cottage  to  the  moor  -where  the  shepherds 

tie, 

Scena  ^Tertia 

The  Moor,  as  before 

fWtaife.    {Resuming   his  place,)      Yet   sleeps   all  this 
company, 
And  I  shall  go  stalk  privily, 
As  it  had  never  been  I 

That  carried  their  sheep. 

Silence  for  a  fe^v  moments, 
C^Oll.    (A<Tvakening  suddenly,) 
^esurrex  a  mortuis  I  ^    Have  hold  of  my  hand ! 
Judas  carnas  dominus  I  ^  I  may  not  well  stand : 
My  foot  sleeps,  by  Jesus !   and  a  cramp  in  my  band ! 
I  dreamed  that  we  laid  us  full  near  England. 

aS^t,    (Ya<wning  ano  stretching  himself,)    Ah  ye! 
Lord,  but  I  've  slept  weel ! 
As  fresh  as  an  eel,  — 
As  light  I  me  feel 

As  leaf  on  a  tree. 

llatD.  [Waking  <ivith  alarm  and  rising,) 
Benste  ^  be  herein !  So  my  body  quakes ! 
My  heart 's  out  of  its  skin,  such  a  thumping  it  makes. 

'  More  echoes  of  Church  Latin  ;  all  the  more  amusing  because  the  mention  of 
Judas  and  the  Resurrection  a  mortuis  is  slightly  ahead  of  time. 
-  God  bless  all  within 

[20] 


Who  makes  all  this  din?    My  brose  has  the  blacks!  ^ 
To  the  door  will  I  win.    Hark  fellows,  wakes ! 

We  were  four : 
See  ye  aught  of  Mak  now? 
^OlL    We  were  up  ere  thou. 
QSfSit*    Man,  I  give  God  a  vow. 
Yet  went  he  nowhaur.^ 

HBfltD*    Methought  he  was  wrapped  in  a  wolf's  skin. 
^OlL    So  are  many  happed  now,  chiefly  within. 
^aU)«    When  we  had  long  napped,  I  dreamed  with  a 
gin 
A  fat  sheep  he  trapped  but  he  made  no  din. 

(Sffifj.   Be  still,  — 
Thy  dream  makes  thee  wood  ^ ; 
'T  is  but  phantom,  by  the  Rood ! 
<?tOlL    Now  God  turn  all  to  good, 
If  it  be  his  will! 

iSiS^*    {Turning  to  Mak,  <who  sleeps  'vigorously*) 
Rise,  Mak,  for  shame!     Thou  lies  right  lang.     \JThey 
shake  him. 
JHatt*    Now  Christ's  holy  Name  be  us  emang! 
What  is  this,  for  Saint  Jame?     I  may  not  well  gang! 
I  trow  I  be  the  same.    Ah !  my  neck  has  lain  wrang,  — 

'T  is  in  two ! 
Mickle  thank !      ( To  the  shepherds  <zuho  haite  helped  him 

up,)     Since  yester  even. 
Now,  by  Saint  Streven, 
I  was  flayed  with  a  sweven  *  — 
A  dream  that  me  slew : 

I  thought  Gyll  began  to  croak  and  travail  full  sad, — 
Nigh  first  crow  of  the  cock,  —  of  a  young  lad 

'  My  porridge  is  smoking  I  ^  nowhere  ^  mad  *  dream 

[21] 


For  to  mend  our  flocke.    Not  a  whit  was  I  glad : 
For  I  've  tow  on  my  stock  ^  more  than  ever  I  had.  — 

Ah,  my  head !  — 
A  house  full  of  young  weans, 
The  devil  knock  out  their  brains! 
Woe  is  him  has  such  banes. 

And  thereto  little  bread! 
I  must  go  home,  by  your  leave,  to  Gyll,  as  I  thought. 
I  pray  you  search  my  sleeve  that  I  steal  nought ;  — 
I  am  loath  you  to  grieve  or  from  you  take  aught. 

[Exit  MaL 
I9alu.    Go  forth,  ill  might  thou  thrive!   Now  would 
I  we  sought 
This  morn. 
That  we  had  all  our  store. 

(itOlL    But  I  will  go  before; 
Let  us  meet. 
®Si).    Where? 

IBato,    At  the  Crooked  Thorn. 
Exeunt  Shepherds^  singing  : 

As  I  out  rode  this  enderes  -  night, 

Of  three  jolly  shepherds  I  saw  a  sight. 

And  all  about  their  fold  a  splendour  bright ;  — 

They  sange  "  terli  terlow ; 

So  merrily  the  shepherds  their  pipes  can  blow." 

[  Refrain  of  pipes* 

Down  from  heaven,  from  heaven  so  high, 

Of  angels  there  came  a  companie. 

With  mirth  and  joy  and  great  solemnitye, 

They  sange  "  terli  terlow. 

So  merrily  the  shepherds  their  pipes  can  blow." 

[Refrain  of  pipes* 

'  Too  many  tow  (heads)  already !  ^  last 

[22] 


processus  Secuntius 

Loquitur  ^afitltl/ 

I,  Gabriel,  soothly  did/see 

A  gate  in  Goddes  house  on  high ; 

Closed  it  was,  no  man  came  nigh; 

Then  told  an  angel  me : 
"  This  gate  shall  no  man  ope,  i-wis,^ 
For  God  will  come  and  go  by  this, 
For  himself  it  reserved  is, 

None  shall  come  there  but  he." 

By  this  gate,^ordings,  verament, 

I  understanc^  in  my  intent 

That  way  tne  Holy  Ghost  in  went 

When  God  took  flesh^and  blood 
In  that  ^eet  Mother-maid,  Mary. 
She  was^that  Gate  of  gates,  truly. 
For  in  /her  he  light  most  graciously 
/To  do  all  mankind  good. 

So  hath  God  chosen/sely  wights  ^ 

Ai^d  rude  like  the^  that  watch  o'  nights 

Their  sheep,  to  see  desired  sights 

That  Princes  long  to  see; 
For  of  such  lowly  clay  as  these 
Is  heaven's  kingdom  made,  I  wis. 
And  God's  own  Mother  who  doth  please 

Great  God,  eternally. 

J  certainly  ^  simple  folk 

[23] 


Lordings  mine,  much  irvore  matter 
Is  in  this  story  than  ypu  see  here ; 
But  the  substance,  ^yith  no  more  gear, 

Is  showed  y<3u  next  beforne. 
Now,  as  by  propHecy,  yrust  you  me, 
Three  kings  ypni  pres^tly  shall  see, 
Come  seekirig  his  ^ativity  — 

The/ Christ  ythat  shall  be  bom. 


[24] 


S^ttna  pttma 


kn 


^  Near  Herod^s  Patace,     As  Gabriel  disappears,  all  is  Dark- 
i/if\  ness,  save  a  Star  in  the  East* 


ts 


Enter  First  King,  riding,  his  eyes  upon  the  Star,     He 
black  and  of  great  stature.     Attendants, 
First  King,  ^ai9p0t-    Lord,  of  whom  this  light  is  lent, 
And  unto  me  this  sight  has  sent, 
I  pray  to  thee,  with  good  intent. 

From  shame  me  shield; 
So  that  I  no  harmes  hent  ^ 
By  fell  or  field. 

Also  I  pray  thee  specially, 

Thou  grant  me  grace  of  company 

That  I  may  have  some  solace  by. 

In  my  travail  ^ : 
And,  certes,  for  to  live  or  die 

I  shall  not  fail. 

Till  that  I  in  some  land  have  been. 
To  wit  what  this  Starne  may  mean, 
That  has  me  led,  with  beames  sheen, 

Fro  my  cuntre; 
Now  wend  I  will,  nor  doubt,  I  ween. 

The  sooth  ^  to  see. 

Enter  Second  King,  Metchior,   riding  and  attended.     He 

is  of  little  stature, 
|HelCi)lOr,    Ah!    Lord,  that  is  withouten  end! 
Whence  does  this  selcouth  *  light  descend, 

3  truth  ■*  wondrous 


receive 


2  laborious  journey 

[25] 


That  thus  so  kindly  has  me  ken'd  ^ 

Out  of  my  land, 
And  showed  me  where  I  may  attend,  — 

Thus  bright  shinand  ^  ? 

Certes,  I  saw  never  none  so  bright ; 

I  shall  not  rest  by  day  nor  night, 

Till  I  wit  whence  may  come  this  light, 

And  from  what  place.  — 
He  that  it  sent  imto  my  sight 

Lend  me  that  grace! 

Jfasper.  {Accosting  the  Second  King ,) 
Ah,  sir,  whither  are  ye  away? 
Tell  me,  good  sir,  I  you  pray. 
5^rlCl)tor»    Certes,  I  trow,  the  sooth  to  say, 
None  wot  but  I.  — 
I  have  followed  yon  stame,  veray, 
From  Araby; 

For  I  am  king  of  that  cuntre 
And  Melchior  there  men  call  me. 
J^aspet^    And  king,  sir,  was  I  wont  to  be, 

In  Tars,  at  hame,^ 
Both  of  town  and  of  city ; 

Jasper  is  my  name; 

Yon  Stames  light  shone  to  me  thither. 

ifWelC^COt.  That  lord  be  loved  that  sent  me  hither! 
For  it  will  straightway  guide  us  whither 

That  we  shall  wend. 
We  owe  to  love  him  both  together. 

That  it  to  us  wold  send. 

'  called  *  shining  ^  home 

[26] 


iljcr^n' 


Enter  the  Third  King,  Batthasar,  attended^  gazing  upon  the 
Star,     He  is  of  middle  size, 
SaU|)asat«    Ah,  Lord !  in  land  what  may  this  mean? 
So  selcouth  sight  was  never  seen, 
Such  a  Stame  shinand  so  sheen, 

Saw  I  never  none; 
At  once  it  lightens  all  between. 
By  him  alone. 

What  it  may  mean,  that  know  I  naught; 

But  yond  are  two,  methink,  in  thought,  —    \_Approach- 

ing  the  other  Magi, 
I  thank  him  that  them  hither  has  brought 

Thus  unto  me :  — 
I  shall  assay  if  they  wot  aught 

What  it  may  be. 

Lordings,  that  are  lief  ^  and  dear, 
I  pray  you  tell  me  with  good  cheer 
Whither  you  wend,  in  this  manere. 

And  where  that  you  have  been ; 
And  of  this  Stame  that  shines  thus  clear, 

What  it  may  mean. 

JJaSi*    Sir,  I  say  you  certainly, 
From  Tars  for  yon  Stame  sbught  have  I. 
JWel*   To  seek  yonjight  from  Araby, 
^     Sir,  have  I-went..-^^ 
Ualf,    Now?  heartily  I  ^ank  him  for-thy ,2 
That  itJias  seiit. 

^aS*    Good  sir,  what  cuntre  came  ye  fra? 
J5alt.    This  light  has  led  me  fro  Sab^; 

'  welcome  ^  therefore 

[27] 


And  Balthasar,  my  name  to  say, 
The  sooth  to  tell. 
JW0I.    And  kinges,  sir,  are  we  twa. 
There  as  we  dwell. 

Uadt*    Now,  sirs,  sin'  we  are  'sembled  here, 
I  rede  ^  we  ride  together,  in  fere,^ 
Until  we  wit,  in  all  manure. 

For  good  or  iU, 
What  it  may  mean,  this  Stame  so  clear 

Shinand  us  till. 
Here  enters  a.  messenger  from  Herodt  conceals  himself,  and 

listens* 

/ 

13 Alt.    {Continuing*')    C^es,  sirs,  the  sooth  to  say, 
I  shall  descry  i>ow,  if  I  may. 
What  it  may  mean,  yon  Stame,  veray, 

Shinand  till  us; 
It  has  been  said  since  many  a  day 
It  should  be  thus.     / 

Yon  Stame  betokens,  well  wot  I, 
The  birth  of  a  prince,  sirs,  securely. 
That  showes  well  the  prophecy 

That  it  so  be ;  / 

Or  else  the  rules  of  astronomy 

Deceives  me. 

^as.   Certain,  Balaam  speakes  of  this  thing: 
That  of  Jacob  a  Stame  shall  spring 
That  shall  overcome  kaiser  and  king, 

Withouten  strife; 
All  folk  shall  be  to  him  obeying 

That  bears  the  life. 

'  counsel  2  company 

[28] 


/ 

Now  wot  I  well  this  is  the  same, 
In  every  place  he  shall  have  hame, 
All  shall  him  bow  that  bears  a  name, 

In  ilk  cuntre; 
Who  trows  it  not,  they  are  to  blame, 

What  so  they  be. 

JS^tL    Certes,  lordings,  full  well  wot  I, 
Fulfilled  is  now  the  prophecy: 
That  Prince  that  shall  overcome  on  high 

Kaiser  and  king, 
This  Stame  beareth  witness,  utterly, 
Of  his  bearing. 

They  approach  each  other, 

IS  alt.    Now  is  fulfilled  here  in  this  land 
That  Balaam  said,  I  imderstand: 
Now  is  he  bom  that  sea  and  sand 

Shall  wield  at  will,  — 
That  shows  this  Stame,  so  bright  shinand. 

Us  three  untill. 

Jlas*   Lordings,  I  rede  ^  we  wend  all  three 
For  to  worship  that  Child  so  free. 
In  token  that  he  king  shall  be 

Of  all-kyn  ^  thing ; 
This  gold  now  will  I  bear  with  me. 
To  mine  offering. 

He  displays  the  gold, 

JtttL   Go  we  fast,  sirs,  I  you  pray. 
To  worship  him  if  that  we  may ; 
I  bring  incense,  the  sooth  to  say. 

Here  in  mine  hand,     [Displays  it. 

•  advise  '  every  kind  of 

[29] 


In  token  that  he  is  God  veray,^ 
Withouten  end. 

Ualt.    Sirs,  as  ye  say  right  so  I  rede; 
Haste  we  straight  unto  that  stead 
To  worship  him,  as  for  our  Head, 

With  our  offering; 
In  token  that  he  shall  be  dead, 

This  myrrh  I  bring.     \_DispIays  U, 
Herod's  Messenger  steals  a<way* 

^^%*    Where  is  that  King  of  Jewes'  land, 
That  shall  be  Lord  of  sea  and  sand, 
And  folk  shall  bow  unto  his  hand 

Both  more  and  less? 
To  worship  him  with  our  offerand  ^ 

We  will  not  cease. 

JHcL   We  shall  not  rest,  even  nor  mom, 
Unto  we  come  there  he  is  bom. 

Follow  this  Light,  else  we  be  lorn,' 
Forsooth,  I  trow, 
That  Prince  until  we  come  befome ; 

Sirs,  go  we  now. 
The  kings    depart,  riding,    and  singing*       The   Christus 
Natas  is  heard  from  afar, 

Herod's  Palace,     Herod,  impatient.     His  Nuncius,  or  Mes- 
senger, enters  in  haste, 

TJCunClUS.    Mohammed,  that  is  of  great  pausty,* 
My  lord,  Sir  Herod,  thee  save  and  see! 

'  the  true  God  ^  offering  3  lost  *  potesty,  power 

[30] 


^tVOti,    {Raging,)    Where  hast  thou  been  so  long 
fro  me, 

Vile  stinkand  lad? 
ISTunt.    Lord,  gone  your  errand  in  this  cuntre, 

As  ye  me  bade. 

jO^fV,    Thou  liest,  lurdan,^  the  devil  thee  hang! 
Why  hast  thou  dwelt  away  so  lang?  - 
tISrunC*    Lord,  ye  chide  me  all  with  wrang.^ 

^tt.    What  tidings?     Say! 
tlSTUUC.   Some  good,  some  ill,  mingled  emang.^ 

"^tt*   How?    I  thee  pray. 

Do  tell  me  fast  how  thou  hast  fame; 
Thy  recompense  thus  shalt  thou  earn. 
TSTunC*    As  I  came  walkand,^  I  you  warn. 

Lord,  by  the  way 
I  met  three  kings  seekand  ^  a  bciirn. 

Thus  can  they  say. 

I^tt*  To  seek  a  bairn!  and  for  what  thing? 
Told  they  any  new  tiding? 

TSTtttT.    Yea,  lord!    They  said  he  should  be  king 
Of  town  and  tower; 
For-thy  *  they  went,  with  their  offering. 
Him  to  honour. 

^tt*  King!  the  devil!  but  of  what  empire? 
Of  what  land  shall  that  lad  be  sire? 
I  '11  do  that  traitor  with  vengeance  dire ; 
Sore  shall  he  rue! 
t^(^tt^.   Lord,  by  a  stame  as  bright  as  fire 
This  king  they  knew; 

'  lout  2  long,  wrong,  among  3  \valking,  seeking  ■♦  therefore 

[31] 


It  led  them  out  of  tJieir  cuntre. 

^tX*  Wae,  fie !  fie !  ^evils  on  them  all  three ! 
He  shall  never  Jiiave  nlight  o'er  me, 

That  n^w  bom  lad ; 
If  their  wit  ih  a  stame  should  be, 
'^I  hoM  therp.  mad. 

But  first  yet  will  I  send  and  see 
The  answer  of  those  lurdans  three. 

[He  beckons  to  Nuncias,  <zvho  has  retired  quaking* 
Messengere,  straight  hie  thou  thee, 

And  make  thee  yare  ^ ; 
Go,  bid  those  kings  come  speak  with  me. 

That  thou  toldst  of  ere. 

Say  I  have  great  errand  them  till. 

JNTun.   It  shall  be  done,  lord,  at  your  will, 
Your  bidding  shall  I  soon  fulfill 
In  ilk  cuntre. 
^tt*    Mahowne  thee  shield  from  all-kyns  ill. 
For  his  poteste.'*     \_The  Messenger  departs. 

King?    What  the  devil,  "  other  than  I  "! 
Wae,  fie  on  devils !  fie,  fie ! 
Certes,  that  boy  shall  dear  aby ! 

His  death  is  dight!     [^He  mounts  his  throne* 
Shall  he  be  king  thus  hastily? 

Who,  the  devil,  made  him  knight? 
He  beckons  to  his  counsellors,  and  is  about  to  enter  into  dis- 
cussion, ivhen  the  Messenger  returns,  conducting  the 
three  Kings. 

"Nun.    {Prostrating  himself ,) 
Mahowne  ^  look  on  you,  lord  so  dear. 

'  ready  "^  May  my  God,  Mohammed,  preserve  thee  from  all  evil  I 

3  The  blessings  of  God,  Mohammed,  on  you  ! 

[32] 


fJ^tV*    Welcome  be  thou  Messengere! 
How  hast  thou  fared  sin'  thou  wast  here? 

Come,  forth  with  it. 
TSTUtt*    Lrord,  I  have  travelled  far  and  near 

Withouten  let,^ 

And  done  your  errand,  sir,  soothly; 
Three  kinges  with  me  brought  have  I ; 
From  Saba,  Tars,  and  Araby, 

Here  have  they  sought. 
J^et.   Thy  recompense  shall  thou  have  for-thy, 

By  Him  me  bought ; 

And,  certainly,  that  is  good  skill. 
And  sirs,  ye  are  welcome  me  until. 
JJalt    Lord,  thy  bidding  to  fulfill 

We  bend  full  low.       [The    three  Kings   approach 
and  make  their  salutation. 
^tt*   Ah,  mickle  thank  of  your  good  will 
That  ye  will  so. 

For,  certes,  I  have  covet  greatly 

To  speak  with  you,  and  hear  now  why : 

Tell  me,  I  pray  you  specially,  — 

Fore  anything,  — 
What  tokening  saw  ye  on  the  sky 

Of  this  new  king? 

JJaS.   We  saw  his  Stame  rise  in  the  east. 
That  shall  be  King  of  man  and  beast, 
For-thy,^  lord,  we  have  not  ceased, 
Since  that  we  wist,^ 

»  without  hindrance  ^  therefore  ^  knew 

3  [33  ] 


With  our  giftes,  rich  and  honest, 
To  praise  him  Blist. 

JW0L    Lord,  when  that  stame  rose  us  befome. 
Thereby  we  knew  that  Child  was  bom. 
'JS^tVyf  {R{*;{iiy,)   jbui/&Ui3,  I  am  forlorn 

I  wold  be  Tep.€ln}jad\ytOptoTn 
—  For-:|iol»^^ami^^ca«*e' 

/ 

Alas,  alas,  I  aiBfmTI  woe  h 

Sir  kings,  sit  (^own,  and  rest  you  so.      [^Tamtng   to   his 

counsellors f  dojtiors  of  the  Mohammedan  faith* 
By  scrip^re,  sirs,  vj^at  say  ye  two ; 

Withouten  let  ? 
What  ye  can  s^  thej;et^ 

Lo,  utter  it ! 

These  kings  do  mie  to  un^ierstand, 
That  bom  is  newly,  in  tjws  land, 
A  king  that  shall  wie^d'^sea  and  sand ; 
They  tell  me  so;      ^ 
nd  therefor,  sirs,  I  yoiycommand 
/  Your  books^go  to, 

/         ■/     / 

And  look  iorthwitn,  for  ^ything, 
If  ye  find  aught  of  sucb^a  king. 
jFitSt  2!30Ct0t=®p«nsrllor.    It    shall    be  done    at 
your  biddiiig,     / 
By  Him  m6  bought !  ^ 
And  soon  we  shall  you  tidings  bring 
If  we  find  aught.  / 

.StCOntf  Hoc.    Soon  shall ywe  wit,  lord,  if  I  may, 
If  aught  be  writteji  in  our  laj^ 

'[34] 


An 


|l^gf>~-Now,  masters,  thpreof  I  you  pray 

s„On  all  manere.       / 
iFltSTltBt.   eoiiit  iofiK  Icl^s  assay 

»^Our  hnnkes  togemer  here. 

They  go  to  one  side  and  tonsutflhe  sacred  scrolls  of  proph- 
atyf  ihon,  returnipg,  fhfy  address  Herod,  'who  has 
resumed  his  seaLj 

&ttinti  2iOC,   Certes,  siiTlo,  here  find  I 
Well  written  inproyhesy. 
Howrtttarprophet  Msa-y, 

That  ne'er  beguiled. 
Tells  that  a  maiden,  of  her  body 
SEairT.eai  /  Child. 

iFCtSt  10 OC,    And  also,  sir,  to  you  I  tell 
The  marVelest  tning  that  ever  fell,  — 
Her  maidenhooA  with  her  shall  dwell, 

^0  did  tfeforne! 

That  bhild  shlU  hight  Emanuel 
W^en  he  is  born. 

Lord,  this  is  sooth,  securely, 
Witness  th^  prophet  Isa-y 

las!  for  dole  I  die, 
LonJ^  ere  my  day! 
Sliall  He  hfcve  ^leaiLi  puwuwthan  I? 
-Ah' wp1]away !      \He  rises, 

Alas,  alas,  I  am  forlorn ! 

I  wold  be  rent  and  all  to-torn ; 

But  look  ye  yet,  as  ye  did  befome; 

For  love  of  me,  — 
And  tell  me  where  that  boy  is  bom ; 

Anon  let  see.       {The    doctors  again    consult    the 
sacred  scrolls. ) 

[35] 


h 


j 
jpitHt  29  OC*   All  ready,  lord,  with  main  and  mood. 

fj^tt*  Have  done  at  once,  or  I  go  wood  ^ ; 

And,  certes,  that  gadling  were  as  good 

Have  grieved  me  naught; 
I  shall  see  that  caitiff's  blood. 

By  Him  that  me  has  bought ! 

cScCOntI  230C.   Micheas  the  prophet,  withouten  nay, 
How  that  he  tells  I  shall  you  say : 
In  Bedlehem,  land  of  Juday, 

As  I  say  you. 
From  out  thereof  a  Duke  shall  spray ;  ^ 

Thus  find  we  now. 


^^"^  jj^fiy&trt.    Sir,  thus  we  find  in  prophecy: 
\      Therefor  we  say  you,  securel)^, 
In  Bedlem,  we  say  you  truly. 
Bom  is  that  King. 
fj^tV*  The  devil  hang  you  high  to  dry, 
For  this  tiding ! 


\ 


And  certes  ye  lie!  it  may  not  be! 

.Suxm^^e^r— Lord,  we  witnc9i>it  truly; 
Here  the  sooth  yourself  may^see. 
If  ye  can  read.       ,,-^ 
fj^tv*   Ah,  wellawayl  full  woe  is  me! 
The  devil  you  speed ! 

iFitSt  Pt)C.    Lord,  it  is  soo^,  all  that  we  say, 
We  find  it  written  in  our  lay.^ 
^tV*  Go  hence,  varlets,  in  twenty  devil  way, 
C        Fasff or  your  life!       \_TSe  doctors  flee  from  his 
presence*     The  kirt^s  rise*  ' 

I  mad  ^  ^  a  leader  shall  arise 

[36] 


Miglitjt-Mafeowtter^s'fi^^ell  may. 
Let  yQju_jieMet  tki«?el   r' 


Alas,  whereto  weax  I  a  crown? 

Or  wny  am  called  otgreat  renown? 

I  am  the  fftiil^g^  hpat^n.  down 

That  ever  wa&jnan; 
And  by  a  foul  rascallion, 

'^h?X  nft  ffOO^  r^m^ 


Alasrtiiat  ever  i  snoiud  be  knight. 
Or  holden  man  oTinipkle  might, 
If  a  lad  should-reave^-jne  my  right, 

All  thus  me  fro ; 
l.rt.  to  my  fieath  1  l3hrntrfd-me  digfet  ^ 

' Em  it  wLiL'au. 

-       -  He  iurns  to  the  Magi* 

Ye  noble  kings,  your  ears  now  lend! 
Ye  shall  have  safe  conduct  to  wend ; 
But  come  again  and  me  attend 

Here,  I  you  pray; 
Ye  shall  me  find  a  faithful  friend. 

If  ye  do  swae.^ 

If  it  be  sooth,  this  new  tiding, 
Some  worship  would  I  do  that  King, 
Therefor  I  pray  you  that  you  bring 
Me  tidings  soon. 
^aS.   All  ready,  lord,  at  your  bidding 
It  shall  be  done.     [The  kings  mount 
their  horses  and  depart* 

'  bereave  me  of  ^  address  myself  '  so 

[37] 


1 


fJ^tV*   Ah,  fie,  fie,  on  the  tales  that  I  have  been  told, 
Here  before  my  cruel  knee! 
How  should  a  bairn  wax  so  bold 

If  born  among  the  beasts  he  be? 
He  is  young,  and  I  am  old, 

A  hardy  king  of  high  degree! —      \_Cornets  heard  in 
distance. 
This  day  those  Kinges  shall  lie  cold 
If  they  come  again  to  me.  — 

My  Gods  I  shall  upraise,  — 
A  dark  devil  with  falseness,  I  say. 
Shall  cast  a  mist  in  the  kinges  eye 
By  the  banks  and  the  dales  dry. 

That  by  dark  they  shall  come  this  ways. 

{Kneeling,)  Mahound,  thou  art  of  mightes  most, 
In  my  sight  a  glorious  ghost; 
Thou  comfortest  me  both  in  coimtry  and  coast 

With  thy  wisdom  and  thy  wit ; 
For  truly,  lord,  in  thee  is  my  trust. 
Good  lord,  let  not  my  might  be  lost: 
All  my  counsel  well  thou  wotst! 

Here  in  thy  presence  as  I  set 
This  besawnt  ^  of  gold,  rich  and  round 

I  offer  it  for  my  paust^  ^  and  me : 
That  thou  mayst  aid  me  in  this  stound  ' 

Sweet  Mahound,  remember  me! 
He  remains  a  moment  <with  hands  and  face  uplifted;  then 

rising  and  approaching  the  front  of  the  stage  above 

Hellmouth,  he  spreads  his  hands  dcywnTvards  and  calls 

Hvith  head  depressed:  — 
Help!   Sathanas  and  Lucifer, 
Balzebub,  bold  bachelere, 

*  coin  2  power  3  hour 

[38]       ■ 


Ragnayll,  thou  art  my  dear !     [Smoke  from  beto<w,  but 
no  devils. 
Now  fare  I  wonder  evil! 
Alas,  alas,  where  is  my  powere?     [Manifold  sounds. 
Ye  demons  of  the  Doom  appear 
And  body  and  soul^,  both  in  fere,^ 

I  vow  unto  the  Devil! 
Ttvo  devils  proceed  from  HellmouiK  ivith  ihunder,  fire^  and 
cries  of  *'  out-harro<zv/' 

^ttmUSi  Bcmon*   Anon!    Master,  Anon!   anon! 
From  Hell  grounde  I  heard  thee  groan : 
I  thought  I  wold  not  come  myself  alone 
For  thy  worship  and  thy  praise. 
fhftK*   O,  dark  devil  with  falseness,  I  say, 
Go,  cast  a  mist  in  those  Kinges  eye 
By  bankes  and  by  dales  dry. 

That  by  dark  they  shall  come  this  ways. 
Damb-sho<zv ;  lurid  lights ;  thunder.     Exeunt  devils,  call- 
ing doiun  mists.     Then  darkness* 

Explicit  Processus  Secundus, 

I  company 


[39] 


Loquitur  <Kafitiel 

Amend  thee,  man,  whiles  yet  thou  may, 

Let  never  no  mirth  fordo  thy  mind; 
Think  thou  on  the  dreadful  day 

When  God  shall  doom  all  mankind. 

Think  thou  fares  as  doth  the  wind; 
This  world  is  waste,  and  will  away; 

Man,  revolve  this  in  thy  mind, 
O  man,  amend  thee  whiles  thou  may. 

Amend  thee,  man,  whiles  thou  art  here, 

Or  e'er  thou  go  another  gait; 
When  thou  art  dead  and  laid  on  bier, 

Wit  thou  well  thou  art  too  late; 

For  if  thy  goods,  with  none  abate, 
Were  held  for  thee  after  thy  day. 

In  heaven  they  would  not  mend  thy  state. 
Forthwith  amend  thee  whiles  thou  may. 

If  thou  be  right  royal  in  rent, 

As  is  the  steed  standing  in  stall. 
Still  know  in  heart  and  take  intent 

That  they  are  Goddes  goodes  all. 

He  might  have  made  thee  poor  and  small 
As  one  that  begs  fro  day  to  day; 

Wit  thou  well,  account  thou  shall. 
Therefore  amend  thee  whiles  thou  may. 


[40] 


Mak's  Hut 

M^*    {Outside,)     Undo  this  door.     Who  is  here? 

How  long  shall  I  stand? 
^2ll«    (From  ivtthin,)  Who    starts   all    this   gear^? 

Now  walk  with  a  wanyand !  ^ 
l^ai^.    Ah,  Gyll,  what  cheer?     It  is  I,  Mak,  your 

husband.     {Calling  impatiently,) 
dSf^W*   Then  may  we  see  here  the  devil  in  a  band, 
Sir  Guile!     \^She  comes  ivith  her  knitting  to  the 
door  and  lets  him  in, 

Lo,  he  comes  with  a  coil 
As  he  were  gripped  by  the  gule.^ 
I  may  not  sit  at  my  toil 
A  hand-long  while. 

^aU»    Will  ye  hear  what  fare  she  makes  her  sloth 
for  to  gloze? 
And  does  naught  but  loiter  and  wiggle  her  toes. 
^^\X*    Why,  who  wanders,  who  wakes,  who  comes, 
who  goes? 
Who  brews,  who  bakes?    Who  makes  me  this  hose? 

[Displaying  her  handiivork. 
Ah,  then. 
It  is  ruth  to  behold 
Now  in  hot,  now  in  cold,  — 
Woe  worth  the  household 

That  wants  a  woman! 

I  trouble  *  Be  off,  and  bad  luck  to  you !  ^  throat 

[41] 


But  what  end  has  thou  made  with  the  herds,  Mak? 
J^afe.    The  last  words  that  they  said  when  I  turned 
my  back 
They  would  look  that  they  had  their  sheep,  all  the 

pack, 
I  hope  they  '11  not  be  well  paid  when  they  find  they  're 
to  lack,  Perde! 

But  how-so  the  game  goes, 
My  part  they  '11  suppose. 
And  make  a  foul  noise. 

And  cry  out  upon  me. 

But  thou  must  do  as  thou  hight.^ 

C5gU.  —  I  accord  me  theretill, 

I  shaU  swaddle  him  right  in  my  cradle ;      [She  sees   to 

the  ivether,  and  turns  to  the  bed, 
I  will  lie  down  straight ;    come  hap  me,  — 
JHafe.  I  will. 

CSgU.    {Directing  him  hcHU  to  tuck  her  in, )    Behind  i 
Come  Coll  and  his  marrow,- 
They  will  nip  us  full  narrow. 
^afe»   Like  the  de'il  I  '11  cry  "  Harr9w !  "" 
The  sheep  if  they  find. 

^^n.    Hearken  still  for  their  call;    they  will  come 
anon. 
Come  and  make  ready  all  and  sing  by  thine  own ; 
Sing  "  Lullay  "  thou  shall,  for  I  must  groan 
And  cry  out  by  the  wall  on  Mary  and  John, 

Full  sore. 
Sing  "  Lullay  "  on  fast 
When  thou  hears  them  at  last; 

'  promised  ^  fellows 

[42] 


And  but  I  play  a  false  cast,^ 
Trust  me  no  more. 

Mak  rocks  the  cradle  and  sings  over  the  sheep  :  - 

Lully,  lulla,  thow  littell  tine  ^  child, 
By  by,  lully,  lullay,  thow  littell  tine  child. 
By  by,  lully,  lullay ! 


Scena  SecuntJa 

The  Crooked  Thorn^  Beyond  the  Moor 

Enter  Colt  to  Da<w  and  Gyb, 
!PatU»    Ah,  Coll,  good  mom!    Why  sleeps  thou  not? 
Coll,     Alas,  that  ever  was  I  bom!    We  have  a  foul 
blot. 
A  fat  wether  have  we  lorn. 
IBatO.  Marry,  God  grant  not! 

OfSi)*    Who  should  do  us  that  scorn?    That  were  a 

foul  spot. 
Coll*    Some  shrew. 

And  in  bushes  and  bogs 
All  Horbery  Shrogs, 
I  have  sought  with  my  dogs 
I  found  but  one  ewe. 

USatD*    Now  trow  me,  if  you  will;  by  Saint  Thomas 
of  Kent, 
Either  Mak  or  Gyll,  was  at  that  assent.^ 

Coll*   Peace,  man,  be  still!    I  saw  when  he  went; 
Thou  slanders  him  ill ;  thou  ought  to  repent 
Good  speed. 

'  If  I  fool  them  not  ^  tiny  3  conspiracy 

[43] 


^$t)*    Now  by  my  hopes  on  high, 
If  I  should  even  here  die, 
I  'd  say,  as  I  am  I, 

That  Mak  did  that  same  deed. 

2I9d[tO.    Go  we  thither,  I  rede,  and  run  on  our  feet. 
Shall  I  never  eat  bread  the  sooth  till  I  weet. 
^OU*   Nor  drink  in  my  head  with  him  till  I  meet. 
(fSiS^*    I  will  rest  in  no  stead  ^  till  that  I  him  greet.  — 
My  brother, 
One  vow  I  will  plight : 
Till  I  see  him  in  sight 
Shall  I  never  sleep  night. 

If  I  ne'er  sleep  another. 

They  move  toTvard  the  cottage  and  listen  to  the  strains 

proceeding  thence. 


.Scena  STertia 

Mak's  Hut 

J^aft  'within,  singing* 
Lully,  lulla,  thow  littell  tine  child, 
By  by,  lully,  lullay,  thow  littell  tine  child, 
By  by,  lully,  lullay! 

Kind  sirs,  tell  you, 
How  may  we  do 

For  to  preserve  this  day 
This  pore  yongling. 
For  whom  we  do  singe 

By  by,  lully,  lullay? 
Cho*    Lully,  lulla,  thow  littell  —  etc* 

*  spot 

[44] 


Herod,  the  king, 
In  his  raging, 

Chargid  he  hath  this  day 
His  men  of  might 
In  his  owne  sight 

All  yonge  children  to  slay !  —    Cho, 

Ah,  woe  is  me, 
Pore  child,  for  thee ! 

And  ever  mome  and  may 
For  thi  parting 
I  '11  say  and  sing. 

By  by,  lully,  lullay.  —     Cho. 

19  a  to*    Will  ye  hear  how  they  hawk?    Mak  betakes 

him  to  croon. 
<2tOlL    Heard  I  never  none  croak  so  clear  out  of  tune ; 
Call  on  him. 
0f 2tl»  Mak !  undo  your  door  soon. 

jl^ai^*   Who  is  that  spake  as  if  it  were  noon 
Aloft? 
Who  is  that?      I  say. 
29  a  to*   Good  fellows,  were  it  day. 
JHafe.    {Courteously,)    As  far  as  ye  may,     \_ThmsUng 

his  head  out. 
Good,  speak  soft. 

Over  a  sick  woman's  head  that  is  at  mal-ease ; 
I  had  liever  be  dead  than  she  had  dis-ease.     [  They  enter, 
^fiU*  {From  the  bed,)  Go  to  another  stead,  I  may  not 
well  wheeze: 
Each  foot  that  ye  tread,  it  makes  me  to  sneeze,  — 
So  hee! 

[45] 


®OtL    Tell  us,  Mak,  if  ye  may, 
How  fare  ye,  I  say? 
JWafe,    But  are  ye  in  this  town  to-day? 
Now  how  fare  ye  } 

{Noting  <ivith  solicitude  their  evil  condition,)    Ye  have 
run  in  the  mire  and  are  wet  yet; 
I  shall  make  you  a  fire  if  ye  will  sit. 
A  nurse  would  I  hire,  know  ye  one  that  will  fit? 
Well  quit  is  my  hire ;  —  My  dream,  this  is  it,  — 
For  a  season. 
I  have  bairns,  if  ye  knew, 
Well  more  than  eno' : 
But  we  must  drink  as  we  brew, 
And  that  is  but  reason. 

I  would  ye  dined  ere  ye  yode  ^ ;  methinks  that  ye  sweat. 
®^gi).     Nay,  neither  mends  our  mood  —  drink  nor 

meat. 
^[W^a1t»    Why,  sir,  ails  you  aught  but  good? 
21  a  to.  Yea,  our  sheep  that  we  get 

Are  stolen  on  the  road ;   our  loss  is  great. 

Plafe.    {Offering  drink,)    Sirs,  drinks! 
Had  I  been  thore,^ 
Some  should  have  bought  it  full  sore. 

©oil.   {Aside,)  Marry,    some   men   trows   that   you 
wore," 
And  that  us  for-thinks.* 

QSf^^*   Mak,  some  men  trows  that  it  should  be  ye. 
HalD«    Either  you  or  your  spouse,  so  say  we. 
JHalt»   Now  if  ye  suppose  't  was  Gyll  or  't  was  me, 

I  departed  ^  there  ^  were  *  suspect 

[46] 


Come  and  rip  up  our  house  and  then  may  ye  see 

Who  had  her. 
If  I  've  stolen  sow, 
Bullock  or  cow,  — 
And  Gyll  rose  not  now 

Sin'  first  she  down  laid  her. 

As  I  am  true  and  leal,  to  God  here  I  pray 

That  this  be  the  first  meal  that  I  shall  eat  this  day. 

^Oll,   Mak,  by  my  weal,  advise  thee,  I  say ! 
He  learned  timely  to  steal  that  could  not  say  nay. 
(HSiSilL    (In  agony.)    Iswelt!^ 

Out  thieves,  from  my  wones  ^ ! 
Ye  come  to  rob  us,  for  the  nonce. 
J^a[lt»    Hear  ye  not  how  she  groans? 
Your  hearts  should  melt. 

iSffiU*    Out,  thieves,  from  my  bairn,  nigh  him  not 

thor. 
^a1&.     Wist  ye  how  she  was  ta'en,  your  hearts 
would  be  sore. 
Ye  do  wrang,  I  complain,  that  thus  come  before 
To  a  wife  with  a  wean  —  but  I  say  no  more ! 
iSrSlL   Ah,  my  middle! 

I  pray  to  God  so  mild, 
If  ever  I  you  beguiled. 
May  I  eat  this  child     [^Pointing  io  the  sheep. 
That  lies  in  this  cradle! 

ilWafe.  Peace,  woman,  for  God's  pain,  and  cry  not  so ; 

[She  screams. 
Thou  spills  ^  my  brain  and  makes  me  full  woe. 
(Sfgtl*   I  trow  our  sheep  be  slain.    What  find  ye  two? 

I  1  'm  fainting  !  *  dwelling  ^  injure 

[47] 


HatD.    All  work  we  in  vain ;  as  well  may  we  go.    [He 
makes  further  examination. 
But,  {Sivearing,)  hatters!  — 
I  can  find  no  flesh, 
Hard  nor  nesh,^ 
Salt  nor  fresh. 

But  two  empty  platters. 

Of  quick  ^  cattle  save  this,  tame  or  wild,  [Pointing  to  the 

cradle. 
None,  I  swear  by  my  bliss,  as  loud  as  he  smiled. 
CEfgll.    No,  so  God  me  bless  and  give  me  joy  of  my 

child ! 
ColL    We  have  marked  amiss ;^    (Giving  it  up,)      I 
hold  us  beguiled. 
^gtJ.    Sir,  —  done! 
Sir,  our  lady  him  save ! 

(Pointing  to  the  cradle,)    Is  't  a  wench  or  a  knave? 
J^ai^«    Any  lord  might  him  have, 
This  child  for  his  son; 

When  he  wakens  he  grips,  't  is  a  joy  but  to  see  — 
IBaU)*    How  he  smiles  with  his  lips  in  felicity. 

But  who  was  his  gossips?     Come,  tell  them  to  me. 
f^atl;.    So  fair  fall  their  lips !  — 
(jT-oU.  Hark  now,  a  lie! 

JWafe.   So  God  them  thank, 

Parkyn,  and  Gybon  Waller,  I  say. 

And  gentle  John  Home,  in  good  fay,  — 

He  that  made  all  the  fray. 

With  the  great  sheep-shank. 

QSfS'i)*    (Shaking  hands  before  parting,) 
Mak,  friends  will  we  be,  for  we  are  all  one. 

I  tender  ^  live  ^  made  a  false  guess 

[48] 


fWafe.  Wae!   now  I  hold  for  me,  for  amends  get  I 
none. 
{Sulking,)  Farewell  all  three!    All  glad  were  ye  gone. 
The  shepherds  pass  out-, 
119atD*    Fair  words  may  there  be,  but  love  is  there 
none 
This   year. 
C!^OU*   Gave  ye  the  child  anything? 
^gil.   I  trow,  not  one  farthing. 

HalD.    In  again  will  I  fling.     [^Returning  to  the  cottage. 
Abide  ye  me  there. 

Mak,  take  it  to  no  grief,  if  I  come  to  thy  bairn. 
JWafe.    {Warding  him  from  the  cradle,)  Nay,  thou  does 
me  great  repreve  ^  and  foul  hast  thou  farne.^ 
IBatD.    The  child  will  it  not  grieve,  that  little  day- 
starne. 
Mak,  with  your  leave,  let  me  give  your  bairn 
But  six-pence. 
JHafe»  Nay,  do  way;   he  sleeps. 
l!9atD.    {Dra'wing  nearer,)    Methink  he  peeps. 
JHafe.   When  he  wakens  he  weeps; 

I  pray  you  go  hence.     [  The  other  shepherds  return 
and  sidle  up  to  the  cradle, 

HatD.    Give  me  leave  him  to  kiss,  and  lift  up  the 
clout. 
{He  lifts  it,)    What  the  devil  is  this?     He  has  a  long 
snout. 
^Oll*   He  is  marked  amiss;   we  wait  ill  about. 
dlSrS^,  "  111  spun  woof,  iwis,  aye  comes  foul  out." ' 
Ay,  so! 
He  is  like  to  our  sheep ! 

•  reproach  ^  done  ^  Bad  spinning  always  ravels. 

4  [49] 


ISatD*   How,  Gyb!   may  I  peep? 
(i!toU*   I  trow,  "  kind  will  creep 
Where  it  may  not  go." 

CSrgtJ*    This  was  a  quaint  gaud  and  a  fair  cast.^ 
It  was  a  high  fraud. 

Ha  to*  Yea,  sirs,  was 't. 

Let 's  burn  this  bawd,  and  bind  her  fast. 
Ah !   false  skawd,  hang  at  the  last,  — 
So  shall  thou. 

Will  ye  see  how  they  swaddle 
His  fore  feet  in  the  middle? 
Saw  I  never  in  a  cradle 

A  horned  lad  ere  now. 

SEafe,   Peace  bid  I!    What!  let  be  your  fare! 
I  am  he  that  him  gat,  and  yond  woman  him  bare. 
CoU,   What  the  devil  shall  he  hatt-?     Mak?     Lo 

God,  Mak's  heir ! 
Offii)*    Let  be  all  that.    Now  God  be  his  care, 
And  staff! 

<SfsU»   A  pretty  child  is  he 
As  sits  on  a  woman's  knee ; 
A  dyllydowne,  perde. 

To  make  a  man  laugh! 

HatO.    I  know  him  by  the  ear-mark;  that  is  a  good 

token. 
if^afe*   I  tell  you,  sirs,  hark!   his  nose  was  broken; 
Erewhile  told  me  a  clerk  that  he  was  forspoken.^ 
(EoIL     This  is  a  false  work;    I  would  vengeance 

were  wroken,* 

'  a  queer  jest  and  a  cunning  trick  3  enchanted 

2  be  called  *  wreaked 

[50] 


M 


i 


Get  weapon! 

®r3?U.    He  was  taken  with  an  elf, 
I  saw  it  myself; 
When  the  clock  struck  twelve 
Was  he  misshapen. 

®f gtJ.    Ye  two  are  well  fiefed  in  the  same  homestead. 
IBattD*    Sin'  they  maintain  their  theft,  let 's  do  them 

to  dead. 
^aife*    If  I  trespass  eft,^  gird  off  my  head ! 
With  you  will  I  be  left. 

29 at)*  Sirs,  list  to  my  rede:  ^ 

For  this  trespass 
We  will  neither  ban  ne  flyte,^ 
Fight  nor  chide, 
But  we  '11  take  him  on  sight, 

And  cast  him  in  canvas. 

[They  toss  Mak  in  a.  sheet  or  take  him  off* 

Explicit  Processus  Tertius. 

*  again  ^  hear  my  advice  3  neither  curse  nor  quarrel 


[51] 


The  Adeste  Fidelis  is  heard ;  then  loquitur  ^ailtlf  I 

Well  may  these  sely  wights  ^  behold 
And  wise  men  wandering  blindly  yet 
How  Truth  and  Charity  are  met 
And  Peace  and  Justice  as  of  old 
To  kiss  each  other: 
Since  of  God's  embassy  I  was  set 
In  Galilee  of  Nazeret 
To  hail  God's  Mother. 

Among  her  maidens  I  found  her  there, 
Susanna,  Rebecca  and  Sephare 

That  kinges  daughters  were: 
All  wrought  they  silk  to  find  them  on; 
Mary  wrought  purple,  the  others  none 

But  other  colours  sere :  — 

"  Hail,  Mary  full  of  grace,"  I  said, 
"  Mary  in  this  take  ye  no  dread, 

Our  Lord  God  is  with  thee : 
Ye  shall  conceive  and  bear  indeed 
A  Child,  the  Son  of  the  Godhead." 
"  My  face  I  bow,"  the  Virgin  said, 

"  In  all  humility." 

Now  jolly  hinds  that  watch  their  sheep, 
And  kings  that  grope  in  darkness  deep 

'  simple  folk 

[52] 


I 


Their  trysting  with  yon  Star  shall  keep 

That  wins  mankind  to  weal: 
Butter  and  honey  shall  be  his  meat 
That  he  may  Satan  downward  beat, 
Our  saules  out  of  Hell  to  get  — 
That  Child,  Emanuel. 


[53] 


Storm  and  Darkness,  The  Fields  near  Bethlehem,  The 
Magi  are  discovered  dimly  in  the  Distance,  groping 
their  Way,  but  not  toivard  Bethlehem, 

^tl,   Alas,  in  the  world  how  have  we  sped? 
Where  is  the  light  that  us  has  led? 
Some  cloud,  forsooth,  that  Stame  has  clad 

From  us  away. 
In  strong  distress  are  we  bestead ; 

What  may  we  say? 

i^alt.   Woe  worth  Herod,  that  cursed  wight! 
Woe  worth  that  tyrant  day  and  night ! 
For  through  him  have  we  lost  that  sight. 

And  for  his  guile,  — 
That  shone  to  us  with  beames  bright 

That  latter  while. 
They  remain  a  space  looking  for  the  star,  and  then  dismount 

from  their  horses, 

JfflS*   Lordings,  I  rede  we  pray  all  three 
To  that  Lord,  whose  nativity 
The  Stame  betokened  that  we  could  see, 

All  with  his  will. 
Pray  we  specially  that  he 

Wold  show  it  us  until.       [Here  kneel   all   three 
Kings, 

JWet  (Praying,)  Thou  Child,  whose  might  no  tongue 
may  tell. 
As  thou  art  Lord  of  Heaven  and  Hell, 

[54] 


Thy  noble  Stame,  Emanuel, 

Thou  send  us  yare  ^ ; 
That  we  may  wit  by  wood  and  fell 

How  we  shall  fare. 

The  star  reappears  ;  the  Kings  see  it  hut  remain  kneeling* 

ISdlt*    {Praying,)    Ah,  to  that  Child  be  ever  honour, 
That  in  this  tide  has  stayed  our  stoure,^ 
And  lent  us  light  to  our  succour, 

On  this  manere; 
We  love  thee,  Lord  of  town  and  tower, 
Wholly  in  fear. 

Here  rise  they  all, 

^as«   {To  the  rest,)   We  owe  to  love  him  over  all 
thing, 
That  thus  has  sent  us  our  asking ; 
Behold,  yond  Stame  has  made  rising, 

Sirs,  securely; 
Of  this  Child  shall  we  have  knowing, 
I  hope,  on  high. 


Lordings  dear,  we  need  dread  naught, 
Our  great  travel  to  end  is  brought ;     \^He  points  to  the 

stable  in  the  distance, 
Yond  is  the  place  that  we  have  sought 

From  far  cuntre; 
Yond  is  the  Child  that  all  has  wrought. 
Behold  and  see! 

JIaS,   Lordings,  we  have  traveled  leing, 
And  rested  have  we  little  emang. 
Therefor  I  rede  now,  ere  we  gang. 
With  all  our  main, 

I  speedily  ^  distress 

[55] 


That  we  should  sleep  a  little  lang, 
Lo,  I  am  fain; 

JUalt.    'Tis  well  we  rest  a  thrawe,^ 
For  to  maintain  our  might, 
And  then  do  as  we  awe  ^ 

To  the  new  born  Prince  of  Light. 
J^eL   Then  shall  we  wend  to  Herod,  the  king, 
For  of  our  promise  we  must  be  paid; 
That  he  himself  may  make  offering 

Unto  this  Child ;   for  so  he  said.      [  They  go  off. 
Strains  are  heard  of  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis. 


<Scena  Secuntra 


The  Shepherds  asleep*     Angels  sing  *'  Gloria  in  Excelsis, 
as  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Birth  da<wns. 

Loquitur  <3fatjriel> 

Rise,  herdmen  hind  ^ !   for  now  is  he  born 
That  shall  take  fro'  the  fiend  what  Adam  had  lorn  * : 
That  Warlock  to  shend  "^  this  night  is  he  bom ; 
God  is  made  your  friend  now  at  this  morn. 
His  behest  is: 

At  Bethlehem  go  see 
There  lies  Deitj^ 
In  a  crib  full  poorly 

Betwixt  two  beastes. 

The  shepherds  a'wake  and  listen, 

I  space  2  ought  ^  gracious  *  lost 

s  That  Devil  to  destroy 

[56] 


// 


Coll*     This  was  the  quaintest  strain  that  ever  yet 
I  heard. 
*T  is  a  marvel  to  name,  we  should  be  thus  scared. 

©^gi).   Of  God's  son  of  heaven  he  spake  upward. 
All  the  wood  in  a  levin  ^  methought  that  he  gard 
Appear. 
113d[t0.    He  spake  of  a  bairn 
In  Bedlem,  I  you  warn. 

<2^0ll*    {Seeing  above  him  the  star,) 
That  betokens  yond  Stame, 
Let  us  seek  him  there. 

(BffitJ.    Say,  what  was  his  song?     Heard  you  not 
how  he  craked  ^  it, 
Three  briefs  to  a  long? 

HatQ*  Yea,  marry,  he  hacked^  it; 

Was  no  crotchet  wrong,  nor  nothing  that  lacked  it. 
COlL    For  to  sing  us  among,  right  as  he  knacked  *  it, 

I  can. 
©rSlJ*   Let  see  how  ye  croon; 
Can  ye  bark  at  the  moon? 

CoH  tries  to  repeat  the  song  ^'  Gle^  glo^  gtas,  gtum,  Gle, 
glo,  glory  "  /  Gyb  jeers  at  him, 
HBatD.   Hold  your  tongues,  have  done! 

ColL    {Trying  again,)    Hark  after,  then:  — 
**  GUt  glo,  glas/*  etc,  then  they  sing  "  Terli  Terlovi)/'^ 
slightly  changed  from  the  former  ^version,  —  thus  : 

As  I  out  rode  this  enderes  ^  night. 

Of  three  joli  sheppardes  I  saw  a  sight. 

And  all  abowte  their  fold  a  Star  shone  bright;  — 

^  He  set  all  the  wood  in  a  lightning.  ^  shouted  ^  worked  it  out 

*  hit  it  off  5  other,  recent 

[57] 


They  sang  "  terli  terlow ; 

So  merreli  the  sheppards  their  pipes  can  blow." 

\_Refrain  of  pipes* 
Doune  from  heaven,  from  heaven  so  hie, 
Of  angeles  ther  came  a  companie,  — 
With  mirthe  and  joy  and  great  solemnitye 
They  sange  "  terly  terlowe, 

So  merreH  the  sheppards  their  pipes  can  blow." 

[^Refrain  of  pipes, 

QSf'^fi*   To  Bedlem  he  bade  that  we  should  gang; 
I  'm  sore  afraid  that  we  tarry  too  lang. 

IBato.   Be  merry  and  not  sad,  of  mirth  is  our  sang, 
Everlasting  joy  for  our  meed  may  we  fang/ 
And  no  woes. 
®OlL   Thither  therefore,  let  us  hie, — 
Tho'  we  be  wete  and  wearjr,  — 
To  see  that  Child  and  that  Lady 
We  have  it  not  to  lose. 

CSf2^»    We  find  by  the  prophecy — {To    Coll    again 
attempting  the  Angel's  song  :)  let  be  your  din  — 
Of  David  and  Isai'  and  more  than  I  mind. 
They  prophesied  by  clergy  that  in  a  Virgin 
Should  he  light  and  he,  to  slacken  our  sin 

And  slake  it,  — 
Save  our  kind  from  woe; 
For  Isai'  said  so: 

Ecce  <virgo 

Concipiet  a  child  that  is  naked. 

IBjltD*   Full  glad  may  we  be  and  abide  that  day 
That  Lovely  to  see,  that  Almighty's  May.^ 

'  receive  2  maiden 

[58] 


Lord,  well  were  me  for  once  and  for  aye, 
Might  I  kneel  on  my  knee  some  word  for  to  say 
To  that  Child. 
^^tl*    But  the  angel  said, 
In  a  crib  was  he  laid. 
He  was  poorly  arrayed, 

And  his  Mother  mild. 

They  approach  the  stable, 

C^OU.   Patriarchs  that  has  been  and  prophets  beforne. 
They  desired  to  have  seen  this  Child  that  is  born. 
They  are  gone  full  clean;    and  this  have  they  lorn. 
We  shall  see  him,  I  ween  ere  it  be  morn, 
To  token. 
^^tl*   When  I  see  him  and  feel, 
Then  wot  I  full  weel 
It  is  true  as  steel 

That  the  prophets  have  spoken :  — 
ii^OU.    To  so  poor  as  we  are  that  he  wold  appear. 
First  find,  and  declare  by  his  messengere.     [^Pointing  to 

the  Star  <whkh  stands  over  the  stable* 
Go  we  now,  let  us  fare ;  the  place  is  us  near. 
PatD.    I  am  ready  and  yare;  ^  go  we  in  fear 
To  that  bright. 
Lord,  if  thy  will  it  be,     [  They  all  kneel  outside  the  stable* 
We  are  lewde  ^  all  three : 
Thou  grant  us  som-kyns  glee  ^ 
To  comfort  thy  Wight.* 
They  remain  kneeling  <with  faces  to<zuard  the  Star, 

»  quite  ready  ^  ignorant  3  some  kind  of  charm  *  thy  Child 


[59] 


The  Kings  sleeping,     <Sf  fltcitl  appears  and  loquitur. 

Sir  courteous  kings,  to  me  take  tent/ 

And  turn  by  time  ere  ye  offend !    \^  Jasper  aivakes  and 

listens. 
From  God  his  self  thus  am  I  sent 

To  warn  you,  as  your  faithful  friend. 
How  Herod  king  has  malice  meant, 

And  shapes  with  shame  you  for  to  shend.~  — 
And  so  that  ye  no  harmes  hent,^ 

By  other  ways  God  wills  ye  wend 
Into  your  own  cuntre; 
And  if  ye  ask  him  boon. 
For  the  deed  that  ye  have  done, 

Your  comfort  will  he  be.  {^Gabriel  departs, 

^aS*   Waken,  waken,  lordings  dear! 
Our  dwelling  is  no  longer  here; 
An  angel  spake  to  us  in  fear; 

Bade  us,  as  a  friend. 
That  we  ne  should,  on  no  manere, 

Home  by  Herod  wend. 

JWtU    Almighty  God  in  Trinity, 
With  heart  entirely  thank  I  thee, 
That  thine  angel  sent  till  us  three. 
And  taught  us  so 

'  pay  heed  2  plans  shamefully  to  harm  you  ^  take 

[60] 


M 


Our  false  foe,  Herod,  for  to  flee, 
That  us  would  fordo. 

©fatllHCL     {Affain   appearing.)    Whether  that  ye  be 
waken  or  sleep, 
My  lorde  God  shalle  you  keep : 
In  goode  time  ye  did  down  drepe  ^ 

To  take  your  rest.  — 
For  Herod  to  the  devil  he  tryst  - 
To  mar  you  in  a  thick^  mist : 
My  lord  God  is  full  list 

To  warn  you  of  his  zest.^ 

And  therefore,  Kinges,  when  ye  rise, 
Adore  the  Child  that  yonder  lies.  — 
Then  wendeth  forth  by  wayes  wise 

In  diverse  land. 
The  Father  of  God  in  alle  thing 
Hath  you  granted  his  sweet  blessing, 
He  shall  you  save  from  all  shending  *  — 

With  his  right  hand. 

]Salt*    Unto  that  Prince  I  rede  we  pray, 
That  till  us  sent  his  sign  unsought, 
That  he  show  us  the  ready  way 
That  we  may  find  him  as  we  ought. 

^tL    (Pointing  to  the  Star  above  the  stable,) 
Ah,  sirs,  I  see  it  stand 

Above  where  he  is  born, 
Lo,  here  is  the  house  at  hand. 

We  have  nought  missed  this  morn. 

'  drop  3  God  desires  to  warn  you  of  his  purpose. 

2  trusted  ■♦  harm 

[6i] 


They  advance  and  kneel  'with  faces  icnvard  the  Star,  a  King 
beside  each  shepherd.  They  may  sing  here  the  Ho- 
sanna  in  Excetsis*  After  a  space,  Metchior  approaches 
the  stable  and  knocks,  A  handmaiden  opens  the  door 
part  Tvay,     Strains  are  heard  from  <iuithin  : 

Benedictus  qui  venit  in  nomine  Domini. 

^nttUa*   Whom  seek  ye,  sirs,  by  ways  so  wild. 

With  talking,  travelling  to  and  fro? 
Here  wones  ^  a  woman  with  her  child, 

And  her  husband;   here  are  no  mo*. 

f^el»   We  seek  a  wean  shall  all  things  wield. 

His  certain  sign  hath  said  us  so. 
And  his  mother,  a  maiden  mild, 

Here  trust  we  now  to  find  them  two. 

^ItC*   Come  near,  good  sirs,  and  see, 

Your  way  to  end  is  brought.     [First  and  Second  Kings 

enter, 
iJalt.    (Turning  to  the  Shepherds,)    Behold  here,  sirs, 

draw  nigh  and  see, 
The  same  that  ye  have  sought. 

I  dwells 


[62] 


''I 


Sccna  (JBiuarta 

The  Stable  opens  and  discloses  the  Manger,  Mary  and  the 
Child,  Gabriel,  Joseph,  handmaidens,  beasts*  Shep- 
herds and  Magi  on  either  side  appoach  and  fall  upon 
their  knees*  In-visible  angels  sing  the  Hosanna  in 
Excelsis* 

\  iSfatltiel  loquitur. 

Oh,  come  ye  faithful  and  adore 

The  Way  that  many  miss, 
The  Truth  the  prophets  sought  of  yore, 

The  Life  that  Lighteth  this: 

To-day  the  Angels  sing  in  Heaven 

Of  God's  completed  plan: 
To-day  the  Son  of  God  is  given 

To  be  the  Son  of  Man ; 

Heaven  floods  to-day  the  sentient  earth. 

All  bounds  and  barriers  cease ; 
Angels  and  men  acclaim  one  Birth, 

One  Christ,  one  Prince  of  Peace.     \_Stands  be- 
hind the  Manger. 


[63] 


[JWatg.    {To Joseph,)   Ah!  Joseph,  ^usband,  come 

hither  anon; 
My  child  is  bom  that  is  King  of  bliss. 
JfOSCJpl).   Now  welcome  to  me,  O  Maker  of  man, 
With  all  the  homage  that  I  can ! 
Thy  sweet  mouth  here  will  I  kiss. 

M  atS.    {Holding  the  Child  qui  la  her  husband, ) 
Ah !   Joseph,  husband,  my  child  waxeth  cold, 
And  we  have  no  fire  to  warm  him  with. 
JJOS0JJl),    Now,  in  mine  arms  I  shall  him  fold, 
King  of  all  kings  by  field  and  by  frith !  ^ 
He  might  have  had  better,  and  himself  wold. 

Than  the  breathing  of  these  beastes  to  warm  him 
with. 
{He  lays  the  Chi/d  in  the  manger  near  the  beasts,) 

,$^atg.  Now,    Joseph,    my    husband,    fetch    hither 

my  child. 
The  Maker  of  man  and  high  King  of  bliss. 
JlOSepI)*   That  shall  be  done  anon,  Mary  so  mild. 
For  the  breathing  of  these  beastes  hath  warmed  him 

well,  i-wys. 

j,He  returns  the  Child  to  its  mother, ) 
JWarg.   {Sings,)  Magnificat  anima  mea  Dominum  ! 

The  Kings,  still  kneeling,  speak  to  each  other, 
J^aS.  Loved  be  that  Lord  that  lasteth  aye. 
That  us  hath  called  thus  courteously. 
To  wend  by  many  a  wilsome  -  way, 
A^d  come  to  this  clean  company ! 
JPK^L   Let  us  make  now  no  more  delay, 
Jut  straight  take  forth  our  treasury, 

I  by  land  and  sea  ^  devious 

[64] 


And  gifts  ordained  of  good  array 

To  worship  him,  as  is  worthy. 

iSalt.    He  is  worthy  to  wield 

All  worship,  wealth  and  win,  — 
And  for  honour  and  eld. 

Brother,  {To Jasper,)   ye  shall  begin.] 

JJaS,    {Advances  ivith  his  offering,  and  kneels  before 
the  Child,) 
Hail!   thou  Fairest  of  fair,  folk  for  to  find, 

From  the  fiend  and  his  fellows  faithful  defend! 
Hail !  the  Best  that  art  borne  in  this  world  to  unbind 

All  the  bairns  that  are  bom  and  balefully  bound! 
Hail !  do  thou  mark  us  thy  men  and  make  us  in  mind, 
Since  thy  might  is  on  earth  our  mischance  to  amend ! 
Hail!   clean  that  art  come  of  a  kingly  kind, 

To  be  King  of  this  kith,  as  clergy  hath  kenned ! 
And  sith  it  shall  work  on  this  wise, 

Thy  self  have  I  sought,  I  say  thee, 
With  gold  that  is  greatest  of  price.  — 
Be  paid  of  this  present,  I  pray  thee ! 
He  lays  the  gold —  a  round  apple  in  form,  as  much  as  a 
man  might  hold  in  his  hand —  and  thirty  gold  pieces 
of  money  beside  the  Virgin  and  the  Child, 
JHarg*    Deo  gratias. 
The  Child  touches  the  gold  and  in  that  moment  it  is  broken 
all  to  dust.     The  Shepherds,  still  kneeling,  speak  to 
each  other: 

®fgi).    Such  hap  of  weal  never  herd-men  had; 
Lo !  here  is  the  house,  and  here  is  he. 
Brothers,  be  all  blithe  and  glad. 

Here  is  the  place  that  we  should  be. 

5  [65] 


lIBatO>    Ya!   for  sooth  this  is  the  same, 

Lo !   where  that  Lord  is  laid 
Betwixt  two  beastes  tame,  — 

Right  as  the  angel  said. 

(J^Oll*   The  angel  said  that  he  should  save 

This  world  and  all  that  wones  therein ; 
Therefore  since  I  for  pardon  crave, 

To  worship  him  I  will  begin. 

The  Shepherds  ad-vance  to  adore  the  Child* 
^Oll.     Hail,  comely  and  clean!    Hail,  young  Child! 
Hail,  Maker,  as  I  mean !  —  Of  a  Maiden  so  mild ! 
ThW  hast  wasted,  I  wean,  the  Warlock  so  wild; 
The  mls^  guiler  of  teyn,  now  goes  he  beguiled.^  — 

Lo,  ti^  merries; 
Lo,  he  laughsT^mr  sweeting ! 
A  full  fair  meeting!  — 
I  give  thee  my  greetii;g  — 

Have  a  bob  of  cnfcijies! 
[JWarS*    Deo  gratias.] 

Kings  advance  again  to  adore* 

fSLth   Hail!    Food  that  thy  folk  fully  may  feed, — 
Hail !     Flower  fairest  that  never  shall  fade,  — 
Hajl!     Son,  that  art  sent  of  this  same  seed, 

ThM^^halt  save  us  of  sin  that  our  sires  had ! 
Hail!     Child>tliat  art  meet  to  mark  us  for  meed, 

Of  a  maiden  mateless  thy  mother  thou  made! 
In  her  goodness,  througU^race  of  thy  godhead. 
As  the   gleam  in  the   glStss.  thou   didst   glide   full 
glad.  \^^^ 

And  sith  thou  shall  sit  to  be  our  Jiidg;e, 
To  hell  or  to  heaven  for  to  have  us/"""""---^. 

*  Thou  hast  overcome,  I  think,  the  evil  one,  the  false  weaver  of  woe. 

[66] 


I 


Incense  to  thy  service  we  shall  not  grudge.  — 
Son!   see  to  thy  subjects,  and  save  us! 

Attendants  enter  ivith  incense, 
j^atS»    Deo  gratias. 

Shepherds  ad'vance  again  to  adore. 

(SlEfgtl*   Hail,  sovran  Saviour,  for  thou  has  us  sought! 
Hail,   goodly   Babe  and  Flower,   that   all  thing   has 

wrought ! 
HaH,  full  of  favour,  that  made  all  of  nought ! 
Hair!\I  kneel  and  I  cower.  —  A  bird  have  I  brought 

ly  bairn.     [^Presents  it. 
Hail,  little  ^fnv  mop ! 
Of  our  creed  txiiau  art  crop  ^ : 
I  would  drink  of  thv  cup, 
Little  Day-Stai 
plarg.    Deo  gratias. 

Kings  ad'vance  again  to  adore, 
]$alt.    Hail !    Bairn,  that  art  born  our  bales  to  abate,^ 
Fnr  otfr  hont  ^  tn  hf^  beaten  and  brwiood  without  lot  U 
Hail !    Friend  faithful,  we  fall  at  thy  feet,  — 

Thy  Father's  folk  from  the  fiend  shalt  Thou  fet  * ! 
Hail!     Man  that  art  made  for  mankind  meet. 

Since  Thou  and  thy  Mother  with  mirth  are  met! 
Hail !     Duke  that  shalt  drive  the  Death  under  feet,  — 
But  when  all  is  done  to  die  is  thy  debt. 
And  since  thy  body  buried  shall  be, 

This  myrrh  will  I  give  to  thy  graving.^ 
The  gift  is  not  great  of  price  or  degree,  — 

Receive  it,  and  see  to  our  saving.    [^Gtves  myrrh, 
fWtarg.    {To  the  Magi,)   Sir  Kings,  ye  travel  not  in 
vain, 

'  the  topmost  branch  ^  to  assuage  our  woes  3  benefit 

■*  save  s  burial 

[67] 


As  ye  have  meant,  here  may  ye  find; 
For  I  conceived  my  Son  certaine 

Withouten  sin  or  stain  of  mind. 
And  bare  him  here  withouten  pain, 

Though  woman's  wont  is  to  be  pined. 
God's  angel  in  his  greeting  plain. 
Said  he  should  comfort  all  mankind; 
Therefore  doubt  you  no  dell,^ 

Here  for  to  have  your  boon,  — 
I  shall  witness  full  well. 
All  that  is  said  and  done. 
Kings  boiv  and  retire.     Shepherds  advance  again  to  adore, 

IBa)]).    Hail,  Darling  dear,  full  of  godhead! 
I  pray  thee  be  near  when  that  I  have  need. 
Hail !  sweet  is  thy  cheer !    My  heart  would  bleed 
To  see  thee  sit  here  in  so  poor  weed,^ 

With  no  pennies. 
Hail !  put  forth  thy  dall  ^ ! 
I  bring  thee  but  a  ball ; 
Have  and  play  thee  withal,  — 

And  go  to  the  tennis.    [Shepherds  retire.    Strains 
of  the  Adeste  Fidetis  are  heard, 

JOBtpi)*    {To  the  Shepherds,)    Herds  on  hill, 
Be  not  still, 
But  say  your  will, 

To  many  a  man ; 
Now  God  is  bom, 
This  merry  mom. 
All  things  forlorn  * 

Finden  he  can, 

I  whit  2  garb  3  hand 

*  that  have  been  lost 

[68] 


m 


lueH^ 


_{^t>.   ^A(e  shall  tell, 
Bj^d'sde  and  hill, 
Thit  the  narrower  of  hell 

Was  b63rn  this  night,  — 
Mirth  to  swell, 
And  fiends  to  quel 
That  were  s^fell 

Against  his  right. 
if^tg*    (To  the  Shepherds,)    The  Father  of  heaven, 
\    God  omnipotent, 
That  set  the  plantes  seven,  his  Son  has  he  sent. 
My  name  could  he  neven  ^  and  on  me  descend. 
I  conceivM  him  full  even,  through  his  might  as  he 
meant; 
And  now  is  he  born. 
He  keep  you^o'  woe! 
I  shall  pray  him  so. 
Tell  it  forth  as  ye  go, 

And  mind\n  this  mom. 


itOlL    (As  the  Shepherds  depart,)    Farewell  Lady,  so 
fair  to  behold, 
With  thy  Child  on  thy  knee ! 

^gt*  But  he  lies  full  cold. 

Lord,  well  is  me !    Now  we  go,  —  Thou  behold. 
IBatD*   Forsooth,  already,  it  seems  to  be  told 

FuU  oft. 
(S^OU*  What  grace  we  have  found. 
(R^fi,   Come  forth,  now  are  we  sound. 
19  aU).   To  sing  are  we  bound : 
Let  us  praise  him  aloft ! 


[69] 


\ 


Shepherds  begin  to  sing  Adeste  Fidelis^  but  pause  <while  First 

King  speaks  : 
J)  as*   For  solace,  sirs,  now  may  we  sing, 
All  is  performed  that  we  have  prayed; 
But  good  Bairn,  give  us  thy  blessing, 
For  fair  hap  is  before  thee  laid. 

JWatg-    {Raising   the  Child,   as  Magi  and  Shepherds 
iviihdraiv  from  the  Stable,) 
Now,  kings  and  herds,  well  fare  ye. 

For  your  homage  and  your  singing: 
My  Son  shall  acquit  you  in  heaven,  ye  see. 

And  give  you  all  right  good  ending!    Amen, 
Kings  and  Shepherds  depart  singing  Adeste  Fide  lis.     At 
intervals  from  above  are  heard  strains  of  the  Gloria 
in  Excelsis,     A  vision  of  angels  discloses  itself  and 
fades  anvay, 

EXPLICIT  STELLA 


[70] 


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